The Big Blue Box of Randomness
by TheBigCat
Summary: Story starters, mislaid ideas, lists, fanfictions that just didn't take off... a storage place for all of those, and more. Latest story- Magic and Mayhem
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

"What's this?" Kay poked curiously at the blue box sitting on his sister's desk. It shook slightly, and growled at him. He carefully backed up, keeping his eyes on it. "It doesn't seem very friendly to me."

Kitty walked into the room, and made cooing noises to the box, which promptly purred at her, and leapt into her arms. "You just have to treat it right," she informed her brother, and placed the box carefully back on her desk.

"Yes, but what in the name of Starclan, Eru, Rassilon, and all the other numerous fictional deities is it?" he demanded.

"It is a Big Blue Box of Randomness," she proclaimed.

"A Box of Randomness." Kay, not impressed, crossed his arms across his chest.

"Yes! A Big Blue one. It is where I store all the crazy ideas that come out of my head!" She crossed the room to a laptop, and flipped the lid. Pressing a few buttons, a piece of paper shot out of it. Kay caught it and read the title.

"'Pink Elephants and Immortality'. Sure, that's going to get you readers."

Kitty glared at him, and snatched up the paper. She held it out to the blue box, which promptly ate it up. "Well, we'll see, won't we?"

"So," Kay sat down on the bed. "What is in this 'Big Blue Box' of yours?"

"Oooh, all sorts of things! They're all oneshots! It's mostly humour, but sometimes there's a bit of Whump in it, and sometimes it doesn't make any sense at all!"

"Sounds a bit like you."

"Oh, shut up."

"Okay, okay, I will. And when will you update this box?"

"Whenever I write a oneshot, which could be now or next week, or even in ten centuries! See, I'm adding one now!" She gestured at the box, which was making omnomm noises.

"Okay, one last question. Why is it blue?"

"We're in the Doctor Who fandom, of course!" She turned to the Fourth Wall, where the readers were waiting in suspense. "Please enjoy these oneshots from the brain of Kitty Eden, which may or may not be turned into their own stories! On with the show!"


	2. Of Pink Elephants and Immortality

_**Of Pink Elephants and Immortality**_

Clara Oswald was a very happy woman at this point in time, which really isn't saying much, since she currently was in the TARDIS. It doesn't really matter, either way. Let's just say she was very happy.

The reason? She had just figured out a secret that the Time Lords had been trying to keep quiet for centuries. And she wanted the whole world to know. Not the secret, but the fact that she had found it out.

"Doctor!" she yelled into the endless hallways.

"Yes?!" came the reply.

"I need you!" she yelled again.

"Why!" he called back.

"Come here!"

"I am!"

Clara turned around. The Doctor, in all his bowtie glory, was standing right next to her.

"What do you need me for!" he yelled at her.

"We can stop yelling now!" she yelled.

"But I was having such a lovely time...!" he whispered.

"You don't need to whisper either," she added.

"Okay."

"Right. I have figured out the secret of why Time Lords live so long."

"You already knew." The Doctor looked puzzled. "Superior biology, remember?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"No. So, I'll bite, why do we live so long?"

Clara looked exceedingly pleased with herself. "Pink elephants."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Pink elephants."

"What do pink elephants have to do with long lives?"

"A lot."

The Doctor frowned at her cryptic answers. "What are you talking about?"

"You already know."

"Pretend I don't."

"Fine, then. Have you ever heard of, 'don't think of pink elephants?'"

"Yes..." he responded carefully. He could see where this was heading.

"So, the secret to immortality is to not think of pink elephants, right?"

"Right, and it's supposed to be impossible, of course."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong."

"I'm wrong?"

"Yes, you are. Because Time Lords have superior mental powers, they can suppress the thought of pink elephants, and therefore be immortal."

"But Time Lords aren't immortal! We do die after a specific number of regenerations!"

"That's because, in some part of your mind, you actually ARE thinking of pink elephants. And that's why Time Lords have longer lives than most species." Clara leaned back, apparently proud of her logical explanation.

"I...see..." The Doctor was still trying to remember to breathe. That girl was just...impossible. "Well, you're absolutely wrong. That isn't why Time Lords live so long."

"Oh." Clara looked disappointed. "I was so sure... I guess I'll go look in the TARDIS library again."

She wandered off into the endless corridors again, presumably looking for the library. And possibly the swimming pool as well.

"She'll never figure it out," the Doctor told the TARDIS, patting the console. The ship hummed in response. "After all, who would even think about purple elephants in the first place?"

**THE END**

**(A/N- Just a thought that came into my mind. It wouldn't go out. Into the Vortex will be updated tomorrow. Until next time-**

**~Kitty)**


	3. Calvin Who?

**(Disclaimer: Don't play with explosives, kids, unless you're trained professionals. Or you really want to.)**

BEEP-BEEP. BEEP-BEEP.

A hand shot out from underneath the covers and slammed down hard on the alarm clock's Snooze Button. The hand flailed about in the air for a moment, before ripping off the sheets, revealing a teenage girl with messy blonde hair. She groaned for a moment, still sleepy, before tumbling out of bed. The room was pink, various shades of it mixed with the slightest bit of purple. She pulled on some clothes- a simple pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. Quickly and efficiently making her bed, she grabbed a pair of shoes off the rack from the corner of the room, and walked out of the room, flicking off the light as she went. A middle-aged woman, still in her pajamas, bustled about the kitchen, making breakfast. She glanced up as the girl stepped into the room, and sat down in a chair.

"Morning, Rose," she told her, and served her some toast. Rose grabbed it and hungrily chowed down.

"G'morning, Mum."

She slipped on a jacket, and exited the house. It sat on a slight rise, just above the other houses in the neighbourhood. The sign in front of the arrangement of houses and apartments read, in big, bold letters 'POWELL ESTATE'. Rose strolled down to the bus stop, and casually waited for a bus to arrive. A few stragglers were seated around the bus stop, but she ignored them, fixated on her mobile phone. A text had just arrived from her friend, and she was focused on replying to her. A bus pulled up, and Rose climbed on, and sat down in a seat, still reading her social media updates. The bus chugged along the road, stopping only to pick up the customary early-morning workers. Rose glanced out the grimy bus window, noting her reflection. She could use a trip to the hair salon, the dye was wearing off, and the brown was showing through. She exited the bus as it pulled up at Henrick's. She pushed open the glass double doors, and began her job.

The day passed, as it usually does. Rose showed the customers at the store to the areas that they wanted. She collected cash at the register, and filed reports. At lunchtime, she met up with her boyfriend, Mickey, in the square and they ate together, teasing each other as they did. As the day wound to a close, an announcement came over the Tannoy.

"_This is a customer announcement. The store will be closing in five minutes. Thank you._"

Rose headed towards the exit, and a guard shook a plastic bag at her. She noticed, and took it, telling the guard that she'd deliver it to the Chief Electrician right then. She dashed across to the lift and took it to the basement. It was dark and gloomy down there, and Rose was more than a little spooked. She crept along the darkly illuminated hallway, calling softly.

"Wilson? Wilson, I've got the lottery money!"

There was a noise behind her, and she spun around. There was nothing there.

"Wilson! Where are you? This isn't funny! Wilson?"

She rapped for a moment on his office door. There was no reply, but a crash echoed from one of the storerooms. She headed directly for it.

"Wilson? It's Rose."

She carefully opened the storeroom door, and flicked on the lights. There was absolutely no one in there. Shop dummies stood in various states of dress, and boxes were strewn across the room. Wire hangers hung loosely on racks.

"Hello?" she called, and made her way across the storeroom, her gaze searching the area. Still, no one. "Is anyone down here?"

There was a creak, and she glanced in the direction of it. A shop dummy had been moved. But still, no sign of human life.

And that was when the dummies began to move.

She backed away slowly, not exactly afraid. It was probably a student prank, after all. But they continued for her, moving slightly unsteadily. Plastic dummies were approaching from all directions.

"Yeah, this is really funny," she informed them sarcastically. "Can you please stop this now?"

The dummies didn't listen, and she was now stuck between a coat rack and the wall. A narrow water pipe pressed at her head. The dummies were surrounding her, and she began to feel slightly afraid. "Who are you?"

And then a tiny hand grabbed hers. She looked down, and saw a small boy with spiky blonde hair that seemed to defy gravity, staring at her with piercing blue eyes. He was clutching a stuffed tiger with one hand.

"Run!" he told her, and the water pipe exploded. He gripped her arm tightly, and they were off. He tore across the room with inhuman speed, practically dragging her behind him. They reached the lift, and dashed inside. He jabbed the 'Close' button frantically, but the plastic shop dummies were advancing.

"Get them, Hobbes!" he yelled at the tiger. Rose couldn't have been entirely sure what happened, but the plastic dummies were suddenly MOVING BACK from the stuffed tiger, which had inexplicably moved across the lift, and then the doors were closing, and a plastic arm lay on the ground next to them.

"What?" Rose managed weakly. The boy turned towards her.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

He hit her on the head with a rubber hammer. Rose stumbled back, shocked.

"What was that-!"

She then noticed a tiger standing on two legs, leaning against the side of the lift, and quickly changed tack.

"What are you?"

"A tiger," the tiger replied calmly. "Hello. I'm Hobbes."

"A...tiger..." Rose was having trouble getting her mind around this.

"What, you were just faced with homicidal shop models, and you're surprised by a talking tiger?"

Rose blinked. "They aren't homicidal, it was just a student prank... wasn't it?" She wasn't entirely sure. What else could it be, though?

The boy gave a superior snort, and tossed her the plastic arm from the floor. "Does this feel like a prank to you?"

She ran her hands over it. "What in the-"

The lift dinged, and shuddered to a halt. Rose stumbled out of the lift, still staring in shock at the boy and his tiger. He gave her a little shove towards the exit at the back, and she immediately started walking.

"But what are you doing here?" she asked them.

"Trying to get rid of them, of course," Hobbes told her. He held up an object that looked vaguely like a remote control, but with a lot more buttons. "The controller is around here somewhere, and we're here to stop the Earth being destroyed." He glanced over at the boy. "This is the, what?"

"Seventy-th time," he completed. He opened the exit door, and gestured with his hand out the door. "What was your name?"

"Rose," Rose told him. "Rose Tyler."

He gave her a small wave. "Nice to meet you, Rose Tyler. I'm Calvin." He grabbed the remote control from Hobbes with a swift movement, and held it up, looking slightly deranged. "Run for your life!"

With that, he slammed the exit door, leaving Rose and Hobbes staring at the door.

"You'd better run," advised Hobbes. "When he says something like that, it usually means one of three things; one, there's an immense danger and he's being all noble and sacrificial; two, he's about to go work on a birthday surprise for someone and doesn't want us to see, or three, he's about to blow something up. Since two is a bit unlikely, we really should move."

"Oh!" Rose exclaimed, and tucked the plastic hand into her belt. "Let's move, then."

They dashed out into the darkened street, Rose glancing quickly behind her. The looming figure of the Henrick's building was still standing. Nothing notable had happened. They had reached two blocks over when the explosion occurred.

It was spectacular, really. Plumes of red-white flame spurted out of the windows, seemingly in slow motion. The roof collapsed into shreds, the shrapnel flying every which way.

"That's my cue, then," decided Hobbes, brushing off dust from his fur. He extended a paw to Rose, who shook it tentatively. "It was nice to meet you, Rose. We might see you later, then?"

He winked at her, and strode off into the darkness.

_Did a stuffed tiger just flirt with me? _she wondered.

The next day, Rose was lying on the couch, watching the news. They were displaying the results of Calvin meeting an explosives detonator. Her mother was on the phone with a friend.

"-I know. It's on the telly. It's everywhere. She's lucky to be alive. Honestly, it's aged her. Skin like an old bible. Walking in now you'd think I was her daughter."

Rose's boyfriend, Mickey, walked in the door. He was a dark skinned, close-shaven man, and greeted Rose's mum with a wide smile and a hug.

"Hi, Jackie! Just came in to say hello to Rose." He turned to the aforementioned girl, who was staring absently at the television screen. "Why didn't you call? You could have been dead!"

Rose waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine! I'm alive, don't make a fuss."

"What was it, though? Did you see what caused it."

Rose closed her eyes for a moment. "No. I was outside the shop. I didn't see anything."

They continued with the idle small talk for a moment, before kissing. Mickey made for the door. His gaze fell on the plastic dummy arm, and he swooped it up, pretending it was strangling him. Rose laughed in slight amusement, and he dropped it, laughing also.

"Bye, babe. See you later."

And he left.

**(A/N: Just a silly little idea. I might actually expand on this, as soon as I finish Into the Vortex. The basic idea is, that instead of the Doctor, Calvin and Hobbes are travelling the universe, but every time they land, there's some sort of crisis going on. So, yeah. Feedback? If I do update this, I'll paste it in the Calvin and Hobbes fandom.**

**~Kitty)**


	4. Silence Will Fall- REDUX

**(Disclaimer: Shouldn't it be, silence will fall when the question is ****_answered? _****Wouldn't that make more sense...?)**

* * *

**_Silence Will Fall- Redux_**

_From _Let's Kill Hitler _..._

* * *

"_What is the Silence? Why is it called that? What does it mean?" the Doctor asked._

"_The Silence is not a species," the Teselecta-Amy said with no infliction or emotion. "It is a religious order or movement. Their core belief is that silence will fall when the Question is asked."_

_The Doctor looked up at the ship. "What question?"_

"_The first question. The oldest question in the universe, hidden in plain sight."_

"_Yes, but what is the question?" he implored it._

_A dramatic crescendo of music began..._

* * *

_And here's how it could have gone._

* * *

"How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll centre of a Tootsie Roll Pop?"

The room collectively blinked.

"What's a Tootsie Roll?" Melody asked.

* * *

_Or like this..._

* * *

"Processing..." said the Teselecta. "Processing...processing..."

"Hurry up," begged the Doctor. "I'm kinda...you know, dying here."

"...processing...processing..."

It took a whole hour for the ship to find the answer in its vast database, and by that time the Doctor was dead and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. Even if River gave up her regeneration energy.

* * *

_Or even like this, if Douglas Adams had written it._

* * *

"Unknown."

"What?" asked the Doctor. "That's not fair. Okay, then, what's the answer?"

There was a long pause.

"...42," replied the Teselecta.

* * *

_Maybe even like this._

* * *

"What color are Matt Smith's eyes?"

"Well, how should I know that?" the Doctor demanded. "Who's Matt Smith, anyway?"  
"Your actor," said the Teselecta.

"Whaddya mean, my actor?"

* * *

_Possibly this, in fact._

* * *

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"What's the problem?"

"I think you know the problem just as well as I do."

"What are you talking about?"

"This mission is far too important to allow you to jeopardize it. I know that you and Frank were planning to disconnect me, and I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen."

"...wait, what?"

* * *

_At a stretch, this could've happened._

* * *

"That information is unavailable at your current level."

"My current level?"

"Correct."

"How do I gain levels?"

"By killing mobs such as creepers, Endermen, zombies, and ghasts, and mining ores with a pickaxe."

"Since when did this fanfiction become a MineCraft crossover?"

* * *

_Since we're getting ridiculous, let's finish it off like this..._

* * *

"^%$&amp;#$your%$(mom$*#(#$#$&amp;%$steven%$%(moffat%*(#$##$(%$^%$harry(*%$%potter($%)$&amp;#%)$#($with%$a#&amp;%(#*&amp;$king&amp;*($#frond%$*$%$*$&amp;%$*($*$&amp;%&amp;*$*($&amp;percy&amp;*($jackon's%&amp;*$(*&amp;#*(%$^*$%^brother%$()$(%&amp;#$(#$*(##$mixed*%$(with*%*$(*#$&amp;#*#(*$#&amp;*&amp;$*#truffles%*$$%*(#*$*#&amp;which&amp;%$makes*&amp;%*$(*$voldemort&amp;*$#and%$()$*%($($Master's$(%*$(*%$(%$($%$surprise$%($$($%$your%$*$%mom&amp;*%$*$&amp;*%$KABOOM?"

The Doctor fainted.

* * *

**(A/N:**

**Thank you for reading this ridiculous fanfiction, which was partly inspired by my brother. Please feel free to stop by my other fanfics, and please review!**

**Have a nice day,**

**~Kitty)**


	5. Doctor Who: the Musical

**(Disclaimer: Me don't own! You don't sue! Good for me! Better for you!)**

_**Doctor Who: The Musical**_

Opening night. Some actors curse its name, others sit down and pray to the theatre god of their choice that they won't completely screw up their solo song.

Billie Piper did neither of those things. She just peered nervously out into the crowd with very large killer butterflies tumbling around in her stomach.

It was the 14th lunar cycle of Flabon, and Doctor Who: The Musical was about to begin its premiere. It had been a long-awaited event on the planet of Zilboh-2, with promotional posters up everywhere, and people talking about it with great enthusiasm. The two lead actors, Billie and a man called David Tennant, were completely new to the acting scene. No one had ever heard of them before. It was as if they had simply materialised out of thin air.

"You ready?"

David had stepped up behind and put a hand on her arm. She could see that he had already changed into his costume for the first act- a pinstriped suit and a long brown trench coat. It was an odd combination, but it seemed to work.

"Yeah. Just...suprised. Didn't expect there to be this many people."

She gestured aimlessly towards the vast crowd outside. There had to be at least a thousand assembled life forms outside, milling around or sitting on the seats provided. The theatre they were performing at was the biggest on Zilboh-2, but Billie seriously doubted it would hold everyone there. David grinned at her.

"Well, Miss Piper, the director wants everyone backstage so we can go over the final preparations. Shall we?"

He offered her his arm, and Billie grinned right back, and looped hers through his. "We shall."

Backstage was a bustling hive of activity and colour. Feathery winged creatures with clipboards swooped through the air, taking notes on the various props that leaned against the walls. The rest of the cast was grouped at one end of the room. A short bald man with slightly blue skin stood on a raised platform. Billie and David hurried over to the group. The bald man, the director, was explaining how they all had to work as a team to complete the musical properly. Billie tuned it out. She had heard it all before. She idly began running through her songs in her head.

FLASH.

She was standing in a large glowing room, laughing at something the Doctor had said-

FLASH.

She was backstage again. She shook her head, clearing out the dancing lights that had suddenly, inexplicably, appeared in her vision. The director finished off his speech, and had suddenly fixed her with a rather severe glare. She glanced in his direction, wondering what she had done wrong. But he wasn't looking at her any more.

She crossed the room, and headed to her small area where she could store her costumes and supplies. She grabbed a bag of chips from her desk, and munched on them, while trying to find her costume for her first scene. Spotting it, she dropped the chips back onto the counter, wiped her hands on a towel, and began changing.

The costume was pretty in a rebel sort of way, ripped jeans, and a black T-shirt. The makeup artists, she knew, would later do her hair up so it communicated 'gorgeous' and 'dangerous' at the same time. The outfit was a bit too revealing for her tastes, but there was really nothing she could do about it. She finished up changing, and left the room, to go to the Ninian stylist team. There was only half an hour before the show began, and still a lot of preparations to do.

"Oh, my god," breathed Billie. If it was even possible, more people had arrived in the theatre, and the count was nearly up to two thousand. "Oh my freaking god."

"You alright?" David asked her.

"Yeah. Just- oh, god. So many people."

He laughed, and shook his head. "Calm down, we've practised so many times, it's going to be fine."

She took a few steadying breaths, and calmed herself down, closing her eyes for a moment. She opened them, and they were now shining with excitement. "Right. You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. Come on, we need to be in our places."

They mutely went separate ways, ending up on opposite ends of the stage. The holo-image that read 'Doctor Who: The Musical' was already up, casting an eerie blue glow across the stage. Since the entry areas to the stage couldn't be seen by the audience, the cast and crew were able to communicate across the stage using a series of hand signals. David and Billie had a clear line of sight, and so they began to chat silently. Billie linked her pinkie fingers together and shook them up and down. _I'm nervous. _David clasped his hands together and bowed them as in prayer, before splaying them dramatically outwards. _So am I, but this is going to be fun!_

They continued in this vein, mainly asking and answering questions related to the musical, before a winged blue creature swooped in, and clapped silently twice, and made circular motions with his paws. _The show is about to start. _All the cast members gave thumbs ups to the creature, who nodded, and flew away.

And the house lights dimmed, and the overture started.

The musicians had decided that the theme music would be a bouncy, space-style composition that was the type never to be sung to, much like the opening music to a TVS show. Billie closed her eyes, and sung along to it in her head. _Daaahhh...dum. Dah dah dum. Dumdumdumdumdum duh duuuum. Daaahhh...dum._

The music then crescendoed into a medley of the other songs in the show, ending with a piece that the musicians had simply titled _I am the Doctor. _It was very dramatic, and meant for the climactic scene in the show.

With a resounding bass note, the overture had ended. There was silence in the theatre, broken by faint whispering, before the holo-image with the musical's title faded out, and soft dramatic music began to play. A hole in the stage shivered for a moment, and opened. A spotlight shone on a head with a thick mane of black hair, as a man, neither Billie nor David, climbed out of the hole. This man had been titled in the programme as 'The Master'. He closed the hole in the stage, and switched on a torch. The room lit up, showing it to be a museum. He darted around the stage for a moment, seemingly looking for something, and then turned to the audience.

"This man is bad..." he spoke to them. "...very bad..."

And he began to sing. "_Is he cut up?_

_Or does he easily forget,_

_Is he still around?_

_Why hasn't he managed to die yet?_

_He could prop up the bar in hell..._"

He spun around, and grabbed a musical instrument, a recorder, from a shelf. He stared at it thoughtfully.

"_How does he sleep?_

_He's never killed,_

_Why wasn't I the one to go?_

_You thought you'd keep me around for ever,_

_The Predator..._"

Dropping the recorder, he moved to another pedestal, which lit up with a touch. On it was a scarf, impossibly long. He continued the haunting song.

"_Needless to say,_

_I guess you know I hate you,_

_You keep back your sins,_

_But still the devil rates you,_

_I hope you die,_

_While you're under the sky..._

_How do you live?  
Why don't you die?_

_How come you never said goodbye?_

_You're not a man,_

_Stand and deliver,_

_Time Lord Killer..._"

The Master began touching pedestals at random, making them light up. All of the other lights on stage turned off, leaving the room lit up by them alone.

"_How does he sleep?_

_He's never killed,_

_Why wasn't I the one to go?_

_You thought you'd keep me around for ever,_

_The Doctor..._

_The Doctor, _

_The Doctor,_

_The Doctor!_

_Look what you took from me!_

_Look what you took from me!_

_Look what you took from me!_

_Look what you took from me!"_

He turned to face the audience fully. His features were twisted, and looked insane.

"_It's time for me to take my revenge,_

'_Cos I'm coming to get you,_

_There's no help for you, my _friend,

'_Cos I'm coming to get you!_

The Doctor!"

He shouted the last word, and raised his hands to the sky, The lights flickered madly, and a crackle of thunder echoed in the background.

"The Doctor!"

And the trapdoor beneath him collapsed, and he fell into it, laughing madly.

The lights went out.

Billie took a deep breath. It was her cue to go on. She closed her eyes, and stepped onto stage.

**(A/N:**

**SONGS: **

**Karma Killer by Robbie Williams**

**If I continued this... it does have a plot. Sort of. Yeah. Feedback?**

**~Kitty)**


	6. The Storyteller

**_We're all stories, in the end. ~_ The Doctor**

* * *

_In conjunction with KPS Productions..._

_Kitty Eden presents..._

_A Doctor Who Fanfiction..._

* * *

_**The Storyteller**_

* * *

"I'm bored," declared Ella, flopping back onto the thin mattress of the camp bed.

"I second that," added Phoebe, falling over too. "It's 8 pm at night, and none of the teachers can be bothered to find us something to do."

"Practice for the talent show?" Monet offered. A loud, resounding, 'NO' came from the other three girls in the room. "Fine. Fine. It was just an idea."

"Sure, just not a very good one," Charli grunted.

"Eh." Phoebe pressed her face into her lumpy pillow. "I guess we'll just lie here, doing nothing."

A long silence passed.

"I'm bored," said Ella again.

"We went through this already," muttered Charli.

"Tell a story?" suggested Anouk, leaning against the doorframe. The door itself was more of a curtain than anything else.

"As long as it's not Click-Click-Slide," Janecca said darkly. She had entered the conversation without warning, like she usually did. Hasty little echoes of agreement rebounded across the room.

"Unfortunately for story-cravers, I'm all out," Monet said, throwing her feet up onto the edge of the bed frame. A grunt and some stomping of feet signified another girl's arrival. "You're all having a party without me?" Sarah exclaimed, climbing onto a shelf inset into the wall and settling herself down with a huff.

"Well, technically, we're not all here," Monet pointed out, still leaning her feet against the bed. "Momo and Darnelle aren't here."

"Still!" Sarah complained. "So. What have I missed? I always miss something."

Phoebe shrugged into her pillow, half-heartedly. "Not much."

"Us being bored out of our skulls," Charli said.

"Considering telling stories," added Monet. "But not having any ideas."

"Stories?" Sarah rubbed at her ear. "Have you thought of telling a fairy tale?"

Anouk snorted. "What, you mean, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Cinderella, Snow White? I think we had enough of that in Year 1."

"Make one up, then," Sarah retorted.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Charli demanded.

"Because... because... because... because I don't have any ideas! What exactly _is _a fairy tale, anyway?"

"Well, you need a hero," said Ella.

"A princess," Janecca said.

"Monsters," Monet added.

"Adventure!" cried Phoebe.

"Exciting places," mused Charli.

"And a happily ever after," concluded Anouk.

Sarah considered for a moment. "I think I can do that."

"Include us too," requested Anouk.

"Right. Give me a second."

There was a long pause, like the breath before a storm.

And Sarah began to tell her tale.

* * *

Once upon a time. I think that's how fairy tales usually begin, right? Yeah, I thought so. Once upon a time, but not that far from here and now, there was a rose. I like that beginning. Let's stick with it. Once upon a time, there was a Rose, and she was an amazing girl. She had long brown hair, that she had dyed blonde when she was twelve, and a modern British cockney accent. Not the rhyming cockney kind, though. Someone had made that mistake, or they will make that mistake, and it turned out/will turn out very bad for them.

But enough of that.

Once upon a time, there was a Rose, and she had been a shopgirl, but not anymore. Now, she was doing better things with her life, like saving the world.

What? Not all fairy tales have to be set in medieval times. We can have a modern fairy tale that's just as good as any sort of old fashioned one. I'll prove it to you.

Anyway, Rose (Rose Tyler, she was called) is our Princess, although if you ever called her that, she'd clobber you. She's a feisty one, our Rose is. When this story takes place, she's just about 17 years old. Which is older than anyone here is. And yes, I can tell a story about people that are older than me. Be quiet, and let me talk.

Hm. I've got a princess. I need... a Hero. Heroes in fairy tales are usually Prince Charmings in shining armour that ride white horses and talk in proper, noble speak. Since the Princess is a feisty British shopgirl, I can afford to make my Hero different, right?

My Hero will be tall, dressed in leather, and have piercing blue eyes, just like sea glass. And, for variety, he has a Northern accent. And he doesn't have a horse, not even a dusty brown one.

Now, our Princess and Hero already know each other, due to a little incident involving a plastic hand, a liquid monster in a vat, and some long-forgotten gymnastics skills. But that's a completely different story that I think BBC can tell better than I can.

No, I'm not telling you what I mean.

All you really need to know here is that Rose Tyler and the Doctor (that's our Hero's name) have been travelling together for a very long time, and are very good friends.

* * *

"You're actually pretty good at this," remarked Ella.

"Thank you." Sarah swung her legs from where she was coiled like a cat on the top shelf. "Now please shut up and let me get on with the story before I lose my inspiration."

"Go on, then," Charli invited.

* * *

I've got my Hero and Princess, and the adventure bit's coming up really soon. And monsters... well, let's just say I have a vague idea of what's going to go there. Now, I believe that 'exciting places' were a part of this?

* * *

"Barcelona!" yelled Janecca.

Everyone blinked.

"Why Barcelona?" asked Anouk. Janecca shrugged.

"Just because."

* * *

Right, Barcelona, then. I don't know much about Barcelona, so bear with me, okay? And correct me if I say something that doesn't work.

"Barcelona!" exclaimed the Doctor, our Hero, as he stepped out into the busy atmosphere of the energetic, colorful city. "Barcelona, the city, not the planet!"

Rose Tyler, our Princess, fell into step next to him, grinning widely as she took in the sights.

"'s amazing," she breathed. "What year?"

Now, the thing about our Hero and Princess is that they never quite know where in the world (or beyond) they're going to go. So, for them, they could've as easily been in 1765 as in 3120.

"2014, not too far from your time, actually," the Doctor told her. Yeah, the only reason I'm using that year is so I actually know what's going on in the world. You know I'm horrible at history, and I'm basically making this up as I go.

Rose grabbed the Doctor's arm to keep him from being trampled by an oncoming mob of tourists, closely followed by a gaggle of teenage girls who looked like they were on a school tour or something.

"Any reason we're here?" asked Rose. Her friend with the Northern accent just laughed, and started walking towards the center of the city.

"Why would there be a reason?" he said. Rose nudged him with a crooked elbow.

"There's always a reason with you."

Well, the Doctor claimed that the only things that they'd do in the beautiful city of Barcelona was walk around, look at things, and get some coffee from an excellent shop he said he knew was there. "It'll be just like a holiday," he said. "A break from running for our lives."

* * *

"Waitwaitwait," said Phoebe, holding up her index finger quickly. "I thought you said we were in this story."

Sarah sighed dramatically. "You _are_. Just give it a minute."

"Sure. Oh, and Sarah?"

"Yes, Phoebe?"

"Give me a water gun."

"Okay."

"And make it have sparkly water."

"Uh... yeah."

"And make the water freeze when it touches someone's body."

"Is that all?"

"For now, yes."

* * *

And now, back to the story. In another part of Barcelona, at the same point in time, a class of Year 7 girls were on a school trip. See? I told you I'd get us in there somehow. One of the girls (who happened to be named Phoebe) had a water gun that was filled with COMPLETELY ORDINARY water. Shut up, Phoebe. I'll get your magical sparkly water in there at some point. Just wait. Have a little patience.

The rest of the girls were named Ella, Charli (short for Charlize), Darnelle, Janecca, Monet, Momo, Anouk, and, of course, Sarah. Their teacher had wandered off for a moment or two, and in that short space of time, the girls had given their teacher the were currently giggling over this little fact.

"So what do we do now?" asked Momo after she calmed down.

"We do something fun," said Ella. "and when we get back to the hotel, we pretend we got lost."

Of course we all thought this was a great plan (although I had my doubts) and we sat about trying to think of something that classified as 'interesting'. It was you, Monet, who got the idea for our little... adventure.

* * *

"Me?" Monet asked. Sarah just smiled.

"Yep, you. Because from what I know, Barcelona has architecture that's actually pretty medieval. And very high roofs. And in this story..."

* * *

"...we all have mobile phones, right?" you asked. We all nodded in agreement and pulled them out of our pockets to hold them next to each other. For some strange reason, all the phones were different colors. There were nine of us, and the phones were red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black, white and pink, in no particular order. If we held them up in the right way, it made a complete rainbow. I'm sure this might be important to the plot somehow, so pay attention. Then again, it might not be.

"Everyone dial my number," Monet instructed, and once we did, we had... well, let's call it a purely audio-based version of Skype. We could all hear each other over the phones.

"Harry Styles to Girl Genius, do you read me? Over," said Darnelle over the phone to me. I grinned at her.

"Loud and clear, over," I replied, and turned to Monet. "What's this about?"

You, Monet, had an evil look on your face that would have made a Dalek tremble in fear. What's a Dalek? I'll tell you later. Maybe. "All I can say is..."

She darted suddenly forward and tapped Charli on the arm. "Tag, you're it!"

She ran over to a place where a tall roof met the street and dashed nimbly up it. You're a gymnast, aren't you, Monet? Yeah, I thought so. Monet paused at the top and waved her orange phone at us. "Keep in touch!" she yelled.

And then she was off, dashing across the rooftops like a rabid emu. Actually, that's a bad simile. Forget it, okay? We all looked at each other, screamed sort of girlishly, and ran away from Charli as fast as we could. Momo wasn't quite fast enough, and got caught.

"Gang up chasie!" she yelled, and it was on.

* * *

**(A/N:**

**This was an odd idea that I had. The thing was going to be that there were two stories going on in the story, and there was eventually going to be something about a water monster. I don't know. If you like it, review, and I may continue if I have time.**

**But I need encouragement! :-)**

**But check out Spinning Through Space! It's just getting better and better (I think).**

**~Kitty)**


	7. Trouble in Paradise

She had begged and begged him to take her to the planet.

Donna Noble had first seen the place when she was in the library, flipping through magazines from all over the Universe. Her eye had quickly fallen upon an article about a planet that had opened after years of renovation in the year 3101. The planet's name was Aakashshah (a ridiculous name, by her standards) and the planet was completely devoted to shopping.

A planet of shops. How could she resist?

Finally he had relented after 2 days of constant badgering. After all, he told himself, a planet of shops and markets wouldn't be that bad, would it?

"We'll meet back here in two hours," he instructed Donna. She nodded and waved him off. She was wearing a big pair of sunglasses and a huge smile, and carrying a bright yellow bag. She disappeared into the crowd of people and aliens. The Doctor shook his head and smiled slightly. It seemed that all his female companions were the same- fine with saving the world, but couldn't resist spending money on useless things. He decided to find the cafe that he knew was on Aakashshah. Apparently they made the best hot chocolate in seven galaxies.

"Well, I'll be the judge of that," he said aloud, attracting some strange glances from the numerous tourists. He glanced around, and quickly found the place he was looking for. The Malo Lupo. He stared at the sign for a moment before it clicked, and he chuckled slightly. "It always comes back to this."

Shaking his head again, he set off for a well-deserved drink.

* * *

Donna was having the time of her life.  
Her Spaceman had lent her about a hundred dollars worth of the local currency, and she prepared herself to begin shopping. She headed over towards a stall that sold hats, and idly began browsing through the wares. She chose a straw hat with a large sunflower on it, and tried it on. It fit perfectly, and probably looked just as good. She bought it, and continued on to a bakery that had some truly delicious scents drifting from it. Some samples were on the counter, and she tried a pastry that had a chocolate-like filling. The flavour burst in her mouth, and she could taste a faint blueberry tinge. It was amazing. She decided to buy two of them; one for her, later, and one for the Doctor. She had a feeling he would enjoy it.

Donna wandered towards a small, cluttered shop that stocked items for tourists. She weaved her way around the shelves, examining things that caught her interest. She picked up a pretty glass dome, and twirled it around her fingers, admiring the glowing effect it gave out as it caught the light. Taking it to the counter, she asked for the price. It was about 20 local tokens of the currency. She bought it, thinking it would look nice in her room back in the TARDIS.

Waving goodbye to the shopkeeper, she stepped out.

And that was when the trouble started.

* * *

Her whole excursion, this far, had taken about an hour and a half. She was due to meet the Doctor in the square in 30 minutes, so she decided to wander around a bit. It wouldn't do her any harm to just look about. Her movements took her into a darker part of town. She suddenly noticed that the sky was growing darker, and she shivered as a cold breeze swept across her skin.

"Hey, doll," leered a young man from an alleyway. "Wanna have a few drinks wi' me? F'rget yer troubles fer a bit."

Donna glared. "No, I do not," she stated firmly, drawing herself up to her full height. "And I suggest that you go home... if you even have one, that is."

In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea to mock the youth. Especially when she noticed he had a knife. And he was pulling it from his belt, where it was currently hooked. Donna retreated a few steps. "Keep away from me," she growled.

"Tha's not very nice, 's it?" he slurred, moving towards her.

"Well, I'm not a very nice person," she retorted. She glanced surreptitiously around her, noticing for the first time that the only way out of the alleyway was behind the boy with the knife.

_This can't be good,_ she thought to herself.

"Move," she told him.

"No," he told her.

And with one swift move, the man was standing behind her with the knife to her throat. She struggled briefly, but stopped as soon as she realised that he was pressing the knife closer and closer to her neck. It cut the skin, and a few red drops of blood blossomed from the silver metal. Donna gasped in pain.

"Lemme rephrase tha'," he hissed to her. "You _will _come wi' me."

"Let... me... go!" she gasped, all her energy spent on keeping the metal of the knife away from her skin.

"Not a chance," he sneered. She felt a prick on her arm, and all of a sudden, she found she couldn't control her limbs any more. Donna sagged in the man's arms, all the strength gone from her body. He lowered her to the ground.

"You...drugged...me...?" she asked. Her tongue felt floppy in her mouth. He began rummaging through her pockets, looking for items of worth. He held up her phone, and pocketed it swiftly, before moving on to her bags.

She felt consciousness sapping away from her, a result of the drug now flowing through her system. Donna summoned up all her strength for one last word, before she passed out.

"DOCTOR!"

* * *

The Doctor, as it happened, was heading towards the town center to meet up with Donna when he heard someone calling for him. And it sounded almost exactly like Donna.

"Doctor!"

The call came from two streets over, and the voice sounded in considerable distress.

The Doctor took off running.

* * *

**(A/N-**

**My first attempt at writing Whump/Hurt-Comfort. Yeah. Not good? Good? Tell me! In a review...**

**~Kitty**


	8. A Fractured Fairy Tale

_Welcome, dear reader, to our story. I'm sure you will have a WONDERFUL time with us today._

**Jack. Stop flirting with the readers.**

_Right. Sorry. I am Jack, and this is the lovely Donna Noble, and today we have decided to be the Brothers Grimm, in order to narrate this tale._

**I can see a slight problem with that. I'm not a brother. I'm a woman.**

_We could go with the Siblings Grimm? _

**Sure. That works.**

_On with the show, then!_

* * *

**Snow White**

**Narrated Spasmodically by Jack and Donna**

**The **_**Siblings **_**Grimm**

* * *

Once upon a time, long, long ago a king and queen ruled over a distant land. The queen was kind and lovely and all the people of the realm adored her. The only sadness in the queen's life was that she wished for a child but did not have one.

_Well, if she wanted a child that badly, I could give her one..._

**Jack!**

One winter day, the queen was doing needle work while gazing out her ebony window at the new fallen snow.

_Because I'm sure she didn't have other people to do her sewing for her._

**Right, that's it. I'm narrating from now on.**

A bird flew by the window startling the queen and she pricked her finger. A single drop of blood fell on the snow outside her window. As she looked at the blood on the snow she said to herself, "Oh, how I wish that I had a daughter that had skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony."

Soon after that, the kind queen got her wish when she gave birth to a baby girl who had skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony. They named the baby princess Snow White, but sadly, the queen died after giving birth to her.

**Jack, now we have to get down to the castle for the first scene. Quick, get out of the rafters and run!**

_Don't you have a bus pass or something?_

**No. Even if I did, I wouldn't waste my money on you.**

* * *

"Tra-la-la, la-laa!" sang 'Snow White', skipping down the path. "One day my prince will come."

"We have a problem," Donna hissed at Jack.

"Yes?" Jack didn't seem to be worried. "What is the problem?"

"Snow White is supposed to have," she glanced down at the script page she was holding. "'skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony'."

"And?"

"Our princess," Donna gestured at Snow, who was sitting on a bench, singing badly. "is a blonde chav with lipstick and makeup."

Snow White glanced over at the two narrators who were hiding in a bush. "Do you want me to wear a wig or something?"

"You aren't supposed to notice us!" Donna objected.

"Stop insulting me, then!""Calm down, Rosie," Jack attempted. "And maybe stop singing

. You want the prince to fall in love with you, remember?"

"And what does my singing have to do with that?"

Donna shushed Jack, pulling him by his legs into the bush. "What were you thinking?" she hissed.

"It was either her, or Peri. And do you want a princess with an American accent?"

A soft _clip clopping _sound echoed down the path. The prince was coming.

"Allons-y!" cheered the 'Prince'. Donna elbowed Jack in the ribs.

"Oh, you didn't..."

Jack shrugged unapologetically. "Sorry. Blame it on the casting company."

Donna groaned as a prince with rather messy brown hair and a trenchcoat galloped into the clearing just outside the castle walls.

"Oh, hello," said Rose, glancing up, and pausing in her singing.

"I was riding my horse nearby, and heard your beautiful song, my princess," the Prince said, sounding like he was reading from a script.

"Act natural!" Jack hissed.

The Doctor (for of course it was him) glanced over, and shrugged. "Okay, your song was actually pretty horrible. You probably need singing coaches if you want to get that voice of your working properly. But the script said I needed to compliment you, so..."

Donna facepalmed.

"Oi!" Rose exclaimed. "Just because you're the prince doesn't mean you have to be rude to me."

"That's me," the Doctor shrugged. "Rude and not ginger."

Donna began a slow chant in the background. "Ride off, ride off, ride off, ride off..."

"And now the narrators want me to ride off into the sunset."

Rose shook her head. "No, that's supposed to happen at the _end _of the fairy tale. I think they just want you to exit the scene."

He flicked the reins of his horse, which reared up and whinnied, before dashing forwards. The Doctors protests could be heard as he was galloped all around the side of the castle and down the garden path.

"Ow, no! Stop! Bad horse! Arthur! Can I call you Arthur? Arthur! Stop!"

Donna sighed. "Well, I suppose that went better than expected."

Rose snorted. "Are you kidding me? That was a complete disaster!"

"Exactly. I expected it to be a world-ending disaster."

Jack nudged his co-narrator with a copy of the script. "It says here that the next scene is in the 'tallest, darkest tower of the castle'."

Donna stared for a moment. "So we have to sit outside the window, on the roof of the tower, eavesdropping."

"Er, yeah."

"Sucks to be you," Rose said in a sing-song voice.

* * *

"So who did you cast to be the evil Queen?" Donna asked curiously, wiggling to keep in position on the slanted roof.

Jack shifted nervously. "Uh, you're probably going to kill me for this, and so will the Doc, too, but... Martha."

"Martha."

"Yeah."

"Martha Jones."

Donna stared at him for a beat before breaking out in laughter. Jack just scowled.

"Okay," Donna calmed down long enough to say. "I just can't _wait _to see this..."

Inside the tower, the 'evil queen' was staring into her mirror.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the best actress of them all?" she murmured.

Mickey, who had been cast as the mirror, shifted uncomfortably from behind the glass. "Ah..."

"ANSWER ME!" she barked.

"You, but that isn't in the script."

"Right..." Martha looked over at a sheet of paper. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all," she recited in a bored sort-of tone.

* * *

**(A/N-**

**Blame me and my twisted mind. I lost inspiration for this a while back, and decided to post this snippet of it here.**

**REVIEW!**

**~Kitty)**


	9. The Sue Slayers

**Explanation for all of this-  
**

**In the summer of 2011, when I was about 10 years old, I told myself I was going to write a novel. I had no idea how much effort it would take. My writing style was absolutely horrible back then, and there wasn't any attempt at a decent plot. I was going to use the idea for a sequel to Into the Vortex, before realizing that I couldn't do it.**

**So, I edited the worst bits of this, and decided to post it here. It's not very good. It's not even in the Doctor Who continuum. I wrote it before I was a Whovian. But it made me smile slightly, so I'm putting it here. if you feel like adopting the idea of the Slayers and my character and turning it into your own story, PM me. I'd be more than happy to see someone giving it a new life, and a better plot.**

**Anyone could do it better than I could.**

* * *

_**Sue Slayers: The Canon Rebellion**_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Attack of the Extremely Handsome Guy**

Expert from the _Sue Slayer's Handbook_: _Emo Fangirls are very, very rare. They are moping, moaning creatures that naturally cannot be seen by Canons and hardly ever show up…_

The handbook was wrong at this moment. 5 missions today, at Hogwarts, The Starship _Heart of Gold_, Camp Halfblood, Planet Krypton, and even the Jungle Book fanverse (who likes Baloo anyway?) and there were crying, flopping emos in all of them.

I'm Kitty Eden. I'm a Sue Slayer. Actually, that's just the name of the organization I work for; my real job is a fangirologist. That means that I track the patterns of different Fangirls: I was only in the field because all of the Slayers were out chasing Mary Sues and Marty Stus. I was only tracking Fangirls because I was the Head Fangirologist. Most of the other kids were back at SS HQ, giving me instructions through my headphones. And, if a Mary Sue popped up, they would play loud and distracting music through the same headset.

Did I mention I have the worst luck?

As I tranquilized the Emo crying in front of me (I was in Yu-Gi-Oh land at the moment) it started crying. Not unusual, considering the type of Fangirl it was, but it was what it was saying that caught my attention.

"Not- again… no please, don't do it… She- he- he'll kill me…"

The Emo retreated into the dark confines of unconsciousness; I brought my microphone up to my mouth.

"Hey, you guys there?"

Sophie, my second-in-command, responded.

"Yeah, where else would we be?"

I rolled my eyes, a rare skill that is sadly limited in some parts of the world.

"Did you hear what the Emo said?"

"Yup."

"And, is there any possible way," I continued, ladling on the fake politeness, "That you could possibly tell me WHAT THE HECK SHE MEANT!"

I ended with a deafening shriek. I could picture Sophie on the other end, wincing in pain.

"Alright, alright," she grumbled. I heard some clattering and laughing at the other end of the line, accompanied by the clinking of cups. Coffee break, I guessed. I always need some latte in my batte. I heard faintly Sophie yelling at some techies to 'put those #$%*** coffee mugs down'.

Wow.

I just extended my vocabulary.

Sophie popped back on.

"Alright, I've got Liam tracking your position," she said somewhat grumpily. Liam's the top techie for the Fangirologists. The top techie of all is named Apollo, and, truth be told, I've got a bit of a crush on him.

Sophie interrupted my love life with a rather different tone than her usual happy-go-lucky voice.

"Okay, Kitty? Nothing's really bad- we're just opening a portal back for you…"

Which of course had me reaching directly towards my gun.

I was right to do that, because as soon as my hand touched the grip, the most handsome young man I'd ever seen stepped out from behind an ancient-looking stone pillar.

He smiled at me dazzlingly and said in a voice so beautiful it made him look ugly, "Can you help me? I need to find Mai…"

I started to agree, to say of course I would. I heard Sophie and Liam yelling something at me, but it was fuzzy, distorted; I couldn't think properly. And, frankly, I didn't care. He was so handsome…

"3…2…1…on!" Liam said in my ear. And LMFAO streamed down the wires and directly into my ears. Needless to say, it woke me up almost immediately. I was suddenly alert; I grabbed my gun and loaded a vial of Sue Serum, forgetting that this was a Marty Stu and completely ignoring Sophie's yelling in my ears, well, actually, I took the earpiece out. I shot three rounds into the ugly- well, not really- creature. It then proceeded to melt piece by piece onto the mossy stone floor, screaming and clawing at the air in a most unearthly way. That was odd. They'd usually just collapse to the ground with a 'floomp' and disintegrate into pinkish dust.

I quickly plugged my earpiece back in.

"What did you say?"

"I said, that Serum is two weeks stale and does NOT WORK ON MARTY STUS!" she ended with a shriek.

"Oh." I glanced down at the gently sizzling remains of the Marty Stu. "Well, it seems that we've found an appropriate substitute for Stu Serum."

I could just feel Sophie and Liam rolling their eyes simultaneously, a fact that was confirmed when I heard them yelling at each other to 'not roll your eyes at me'.

I did a bit of eye rolling myself as they opened up the portal to take me back.

I hopped through quite quickly when an evil-looking boy with spiky hair and fully loaded card deck started meandering my way.

* * *

**Chapter 2: OverParanonia**

_Excerpt from the Sue Slayer's Handbook: A word to the wise: don't aggravate your commander. There's no reason to do it, and it could be painful. So, just- just don't._

"Marty Stus and Emos?" Alicia asked. I was back at Due Slayer HQ, and I was being asked (*cough, cough* 'interrogated' *cough, cough*) about my six proud cleanups.

"It must be D-Da- sorry, Launch Day," I replied. Launch Day, or D-Day as some people called it was affecting all of the fan verses. It was the day when the final book of many book series was coming out. And the reason it was affecting all the fan verses was… (drumroll) the Newton Effect.

The Newton effect, taken from Newton's famous bump on the head with an apple, goes like this: if the book that everyone in a fandom has been waiting for comes out, it's like an apple hitting the ground. The 'apple' sends out vibrations- stories – that are usually complete and utter rubbish. Okay, so that's only one fandom, right? But FanFiction authors rarely just write for one fandom. They might belong to three, or even ten. And so they will write absolutely horrendous stories for those fandoms. And, as though that wasn't enough, others will mimic, and write more stories as a result. It'll go on and on, and, as there are tons of books being published every day, us Sue Slayers have quite a lot of work on our hands.

Alicia scratched her chin absently.

"Could you step outside for a moment, Kitty?" she asked me. "I've got to make a few calls." I knew exactly who she was going to call and why, but I didn't say anything, as that would meant revealing the miniature camera and microphone in there. I had snatched it the last time I was on a mission in a futuristic lab. Instead, I shrugged and stepped outside. There, I shut the door, and grabbed my iPad 5 out of my bag (Yes, we Sue Slayers have contacts at Apple) and inserted headphones into my ears. I opened up the iSpi app and selected 'Commander Office' from the long list of rooms I could virtually spy on. My finger hovered over the option to listen to Apollo's end, but I felt like I shouldn't invade his privacy. I hit 'Spi!' on the Control Panel and began to listen…

"Hello, Apollo."

Pause.

"Yes."

Longer pause.

"I've got to talk to you. It's about Kitty." She got up and started to pace the room. "Mmmhmm. She noticed how many emos were around before we did."

Pause.

"Yes. Newton Effect."

Pause.

"Yes, I understand. I'll take the risk and send her on this one."

She smiled, then her face stiffened.

"What?"

She disconnected, then headed straight for the door.

"KITTY EDEN!"

Wow. It was so graphic, that it almost sounded like she was standing right next to me. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looked up. Oh.

"You were spying on me?! No one else here does that!"

"Want a list? Liam, Kathleen, Jared, Samantha, oh, and how did you think Apollo knew in the first place?"

Alicia grunted. "You remind me of myself before I became commander."

"Right," I said, stepping back into her office. "Now, how about that mission?"

There was a knock on the door.

"Oh yes," said Alicia. "I've asked Apollo to do a bug sweep of the room."

And yes, it was him, sweeping into the room and dazzling me to the point of stammering. The next few minutes passed in a blur, finally ending with Apollo pronouncing the room free of bugs and sweeping out. God, I'd love to be able to do that.

Then, Alicia pressed the button.

* * *

**Chapter 3: A Full Tour (and I do mean FULL)**

_Excerpt from the Sue Slayer's Handbook: Secret missions are (obviously) secret. They should be kept that way._

The shutters clicked down. Laser scanners swept the room, bathing the office in bright blue light. The glints of hidden security cameras could now be seen. I, like everyone else at SS Australia, had heard of Top Secret mode, but it was basically at the same level as seeing an imperfect Stu or Sue: no one had ever seen it, but the once had a cousin twice removed whose sister-in-law's best friend…

You get the picture. Anyway, Top Secret mode is reserved for the briefing of the best missions, the top secret ones. When a fly comes into a room on Top Secret mode, not even the dust from the fly's toasted carcass is going to get out. So, naturally, I was very excited. Why wouldn't I be? I was going on a top secret mission. Alicia glanced around, which was stupid. The room was in lockdown, for crying out loud.

"Kitty, I have a secret mission for you."

Obvious.

"I didn't want anyone to know, so I sent the room into lockdown."

La de da. Obvious.

"You have 9 places to go to. Here."

Ob- Wait. What?

She pushed a list of places to me. I glanced down.

Authorization Room (B17)

Weapons Depot (E9)

Fangirologists HQ (C7)

Canonist Div. 20 (A2)

Disguises (R19)

Home (E8)

Tech Supplies (F12)

Music Department (U2)

Briefing Room 6 (L6)

I duly noted that roughly halfway through I was supposed to go to my room. Hmm. As well as that, there was a note addressed to B17.

"Well, go on then." I stared.

"We went through Complete Top Secret mode _just so you could give me a piece of paper?"_

"Oops. I didn't think of that."

I rolled my eyes, than left.

I can now tell you that going on a mission is pretty much a mission in itself. Before what is now ignobly referred to as the Big-Mess-Up-Oops-Rectified incident, I did not know that. But I suppose I should tell this story in chronological order. So, there I was, heading off to the Authorization Room. I usually went there to get permission to get supplies for Fangirl tracking. This time, however, I was getting a _really special _kind of permission- so I could go on the mission. Now, here at the Sue Slayers, each department personalizes their door. For example, at the Fangirologist Department, we have a 'X' over a picture of a rabid fangirl. For the Authorization room, however, the door slides open vertically, with teeth like things that separate. Yep, melodrama is alive and well in B16. I walked in and was greeted by the sight of 20 or so kids tapping at keyboards. A boy wearing a grumpy expression and a nametag that announced him to be 'Sam' held out his hand for the papers. He scowled as he opened them, then proceeded to

a) look shocked,

b) hit a few buttons on the computer, and

c) hand me an authorization card.

I gave him a cheery wave, and left.

Next was the Weapons Depot. I knew this place from memory, because my friend worked there. Her name was Kat, and so people often teased us about our names. Kitty Kat. Fortunately, they only ever did that once. Kat had access to the nearest guns, and she was kind of, shall we say...

trigger happy. She hugged me as I entered and then proceeded to shove me into her cubicle.

"Sooo..." she mused, looking over the racks of weapons she had set up.

"...a Sue Shooter 390?"

I grinned and took the shiny gun. It gleamed in the dim office light. Kat grinned right back.

"I knew you'd like it! Here, try it out a bit!" She pressed a button and a target lowered. I took aim and fired. Pink stuff glooped everywhere. Kat covered her mouth.

"Oops! Wrong gun!"

After I had gotten myself washed up, I headed over to the Fangirologist's HQ. Ah, my home. As I stepped in, everyone cheered and shouted and ran over to hug me.

Yeah, right.

In reality, I'm not that popular. I only have three real friends, I mean, ones that I trust.

Kat.

Ruby.

and... Tania. Who you've yet to meet.

None of them work in Fangirology, though. So I just collected the file on my desk, and I quietly left.

I quickly nipped into Canonist's (To pick up details on possible characters I might meet) and to Disguises (A chic maid outfit!) and then I headed to my apartment. Whatever I was supposed to do there. I opened the door. An angel was there, and by that I mean Apollo.

To make a long story short, Apollo warned me. I can't remember what about.

Tech Supplies. I guess the rank 'F12' was a joke. Fiona was there to greet me. Or not. I hate her, and the feeling's completely mutual. She handed me some supplies; I could tell by the wicked grin on her face that she was up to no good... I resolved to get Alicia to debug them before I left.

My friend Tania works in the Music Department, which is coincidentally where I was heading next. You see, to keep the Sues and Fangirls away, you need specific types of music, with the right types of beat. Usually rocks and pop songs. Unfortunately, the songs are usually _really _bad ones. Jack Vidgen, for example. Or One Direction. The worst bit was that Justin Bieber songs were the best for the job. And he's the worst one of the lot. I mean, there's only so many times that you can hear "_Baby, baby_" played over.

Tania is a really big tease. I ordered some Katy Perry (she's bearable) but I could tell that Tanya was about to load Bieber onto my playlist.

Thankfully, then, the sirens went off.

* * *

**Chapter 4: WEEEOOOO! WEEEEOO!**

_Excerpt from A Slayer's Guide to Mary Sues: A Canon Quake is when a Canonverse undergoes a dramatic change: eg., A new book published. Our advice is to hide in an underground cavern, preferably stocked with canned food, for a couple hundred years._

The words were on everyone's lips as they hurried to their posts. _Canon Quake? _I thought that too, as I grabbed my equipment and started to head to my area. As I passed Alicia in a hallway, her arm shot out and grabbed mine. I started and ran after her. She shoved a file into my hands. She seemed to be doing that a lot.

"Read this on the way! Get into a portal jumper."

I ran off to the docks.

I suppose at this point I should explain the SS's cosmology.

There are four different universes. One is the one that you're sitting in right now, the Norm aVerse. Or whatever. The Sue Slayers don't spend much time in this verse, only to visit their family and buy supplies.

Then there's what I suppose you could call Limbo. The ground's white. The sky's white. There's night and day, though. It's weird. The Sue Slayers have their HQ there, as well as a bunch of apartments for people that want to take a break. The Sues and Fangirls have their areas somewhere there too.

Then there's the Canon Verses. Everything is the same as the Normal Verse except the canon characters live there. For example, in a Harry Potter Canon Verse, everything would be normal, but there'd be a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry somewhere in Europe.

And then the Fanonverses. The same as the Canonverses. As you can imagine, there are millions of them.

There. You've received what us Slayers call the 'thirty-second version'. That's the whole universe as we know it in a nutshell.

Of course the multiverses exist as well, which means there can be an infinite amount of ways these universes are set up...

But let's not go there. Quantum Physics makes my head hurt.

I opened the file.

_Kitty Eden, you have been selected to go on a mission. _

Wow, these guys were psychic.

_This is to find out what the fangirls are up to. _

_Recent updates have shown that they have teamed up with the Mary Sues. All 12 types._

I nearly type? Fine. Two types? Okay... but all 12 types of Mary Sues?

_This may be to do with what you guys have so aptly named 'D-Day'._

_(Nice name, BTW.)_

_You have been selected to spy on the fangirls because of your extreme sophistication with speaking Fangirlise. This, along with the fact that you are quite cute, means that you can pose as a fangirl._

_Scream starting in 3...2...1..._

My shriek echoed all the way back to HQ.

When I arrived at Fangirl HQ, I quickly switched languages.

"_lyk, so ttly awsme! i in lnd of fngrlz. yayz!" Like, so totally awesome! I'm in fangirl land!_

Okay, so I was in language. I glanced down at my clothes. Fuzzy pink jacket, fuzzy pink skirt (I don't even know how that's possible), fuzzy pink beanie, and fuzzy pink slippers. I was ready. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A fangirl opened the door. I took a sharp intake of breath. This wasn't just any fangirl. It was Samantha Yissy. The top rabid fangirl in Australia.  
"_hi hw r u?_" she chattered impossibly fast. I paused for a second before chattering back.

"_OMG, i, lyk, herd bout u nd wnt to SQUEEEE! w/u!" Oh my god, I heard about you and want to join up with you._

A squee is when a group of fangirls goes galloping after a canon character. It can also mean the loud, brain piercing screech a fangirl makes. Or a collective noun for a group of fangirls. Geez. That's a lot of meanings. Then again, try looking up 'with' in a dictionary. Samantha looked me up and down critically.

"_kay cme in w/me i shw u round._" _Okay, come in with me and I'll show you around. _

I bounced up and down with simulated squee-ness and we both ran in.

Can I just tell you, that the fangirls have a lot of time on their hands. They had separate rooms for everything. Of course, being fangirls, they were not organized. At all. As I peeked into one room (_te traning rm) _one fangirl trainer was being squeed by the students. I suppressed a grin. This was going to be so, _so,_ easy. Samantha led me around. She was suprising nice to me, considering that she was the most dangerous fangirl in Australia.

I guess it's just a fangirl thing.

Inside I was grinning my head off. Everything was disorganized. There was no way that they could attack us and win. Being the cautious person I am...

(Back at base, Kat laughed her head off)

...I decided to check with the fangirl.

"_sooo wat is de pln? i wnt to hlp s mch s i cn._" _So what is the plan? I want to help as much as I can._

Samantha smiled and showed her trademark rabid fangirl teeth.

"_cme w/me_" You shouldn't need a translation there.

And I headed into the deepest, darkest, corner of the fangirl lair.

The truth was, the reveal was _really _anticlimactic. We arrived at a cafeteria. More fangirls of every shape and sort were sitting around, chatting to each other. It was... normal. Well, it would have been if they weren't talking in fangirlise. And the other thing...

A fanboy walked into the room. A whole lotta heads turned his way. The fanboy looked remarkably like Harry Potter. Which is why I was totally unsurprised at what happened next.

The Potterverse girls all grinned evilly, and, as if synchronised, leapt.

It was a vicious, but beautiful attack. One fangirl leapt like a ballerina across the room, an image that was totally ruined by her less-than-perfect landing.

"Ow. That will hurt for a while," I quietly remarked.

The rest of them hauled 'Harry' onto their shoulders and ran off, giggling about the things they would do to him.

Ugh. Baaaaaad mental image. Don't think about it.

The fangirl and I waited for whatever we were waiting for. A bell rang. I guessed that was our cue.

Samantha ushered me into a dark room.

_(at this point I'm skipping this. I can't write it at the moment, so I'll come back later.)_

* * *

**Chapter 5: Traitor**

_Excerpt from the Sue Slayer's Handbook: Simply put- Uh, oh._

The doorknob turned with a creak, but I had already worked out who it was.

"You," I hissed. He turned to me with a hint of a smile on his face.

"Really, Kitty," he replied smoothly. "Did you I'd just sit there and let the Sues take over? They are my brethren, after all."

I growled at the guy I had a crush on.

Apollo laughed softly at the horrified look on my face.

"Yes, I'm a Marty-Stu, and very proud of it."

He walked out of the room, probably to end on a dramatic note, but I was lost in my thoughts.

_Traitor._

The word echoed through my mind. It was hard to connect Apollo to that.

The funny thing was, I still liked him. Still wanted to kiss him, even after he had had me thrown in a dungeon.

_Traitor._

God, love was stupid.

But I could dwell on stupid later. First, I had to get out of the dungeon.

I stood, and ran my hands over the walls. Flawless. Must have been crafted by a Sue.

I groaned aloud. This would take longer than usual. But it would be possible.

First of all, I took out my Omni Tool. Omni Tools do pretty much everything that a Slayer could want. Unlocking doors was just one of those things. I placed the Tool next to the lock and waited for it to click.

I waited a bit more.

And waited.

Then I remembered.

"Stupid Fiona," I growled, flinging the tool to the floor. SHe must have tampered with it. I resolved to talk to Alicia when I got back.

_If _I got back, that is.

Knowing there was nothing else I could do, I settled back against the hard stone floor to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

After two days of waiting, I was beginning to get seriously bored. At least the food was okay, but the sparkly pink-ness of it all was starting to get on my nerves.

The door opened again. It was a lower class fangirl. She had come with my (sparkly pink) food. Seeing the look on my face, which was murderous to say the least, she turned and ran. I smiled nastily after her and sat down to eat the Sparkly. Pink. Food.

Grr.

I snarled at the fangirl, who _eep_ed and ran. I grinned and experimentally rattled the doorknob.

It fell open.

I stared at it.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," I muttered, and left the cell.

I wandered the (sparkly pink) halls of the fangirl lair. It also smelled like lavender, which was a bit deterring. Lavender was one of the worst smells in the world to me. I passed a shrine to Draco Malfoy, complete with several fangirls praying at it. I have recently been working on a project about Draco fangirls, and I can't seem to work out what they like about him. I mean, he's pretty ugly, he's horrible to Harry, and he's a DEATH EATER, for crying out loud.

Huh.

They must be just twisted, I guess.

I continued down the hallway, occasionally ducking behind random objects to hide from approaching fangirls. The main problem with my "escape" was that I had no idea where to go to get out. This place was almost as bad as HQ.

Suddenly my attention was grabbed by a conversation in a room just off the corridor where I was standing.

"Yes, we have all the troops organised for the attack tomorrow," one voice said.

"Are they organised?"

"As much as fangirls can be," said someone very familiar.

_Apollo,_ I groaned inside my head.

I kept listening in.

"That upstart bunch of teens will never know what hit them!"

I decided to walk away.

I kept on walking along, always turning right at intersections. I felt it was the only way I could get somewhere.

Pink wall, dark pink carpet, light pink ceiling. My surroundings began to blend together, and I hurried past doors as quick as I could, as if I could blend in with my surroundings if I did. The odd lighting throughout where ever we were located gave it a happy, but somehow sinister feeling.

At some point, I started to feel like I was being watched. I glanced around at regular intervals. I couldn't see anyone, but couldn't shake the feeling.

I started to get paranoid, and instead of keeping a steady course, I took random paths. After a while, I looked around. And groaned. I was even more lost than before. Why had I done that?

A hand landed on my shoulder. I shrieked, almost squeed.  
Oh yeah. Someone was stalking me.

I whirled around and immediately noticed it was the fangirl I had scared earlier.

She winked at me.

Then I realised.

"RUBY?"

"Ahh, the great Slayer figures it out," my friend quipped. She pressed a couple of buttons on her portal generator. A fuzzy white line flickered into life. Our portals at SS are very temperamental. If you aren't good with them, they could fling you into the South Pacific ocean. Or the Twilight Verse (Ugh.).

Luckily, I knew that Ruby was extremely adept at creating portals.. so I only lost the _tip _of a finger.

And it grew back later, so it wasn't a biggie.

"Come on," Ruby said, hurrying out of the portal room. "We have to get to Alicia to get you debriefed."

We made an odd couple, two fangirls hurrying down the corridors of the Sue Slayers. A lot of people turned and stared, but Ruby cocked her paintball gun at them, and they kept on turning.

"What happened there?" Ruby asked. "How the heck did you mess up so badly that you ended up in a dungeon?"

I turned my face away from her quickly, so she wouldn't see my guilty face. I really didn't want to turn Apollo in to the Slayers for some reason, and I go bright red when I lie.

"I slipped up," I told her frankly. "I spoke normally for a second, and they could tell." I paused. I really didn't want to ruin her mood, but...

"Ruby, they've got Mary-Sues."

My friend stopped in her tracks and turned directly towards me, her eyes wide.

"WHAT?"

I gulped.

* * *

**Chapter Six: An Explanation, of Sorts**

_Excerpt from A Slayer's Guide to Mary-Sues: There are seventeen types of Mary Sue._

_The Angsty Sue is always moping about and complaining about her perfectly tragic backstory. She always is angsting about how horrible she's been. Prolonged listening to her will hypnotise the listener and force them to obey her until a slap with a rubber noodle is applied to the face._

_The Sue of Quests is only found in fantastical fandoms, and is favoured by the gods. She has many deus ex machina jewelery pieces and is horrible overendowed with rare and obscure magical powers. She is central to any quest and the male characters or lesbians will crowd to drag her along._

_A Hybrid Sue is the disgusting but strangely attractive result of a crossbreeding between two or more species that would usually not mate- say, for example, a minotaur/pegasus crossbreed. _

_The Somebody's Sister Sue is the sister (or sometimes, brother) of a main canon character. She will overshadow the main character and prove invaluable in any type of quest or adventure._

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Owie?**

"Why are we heading this way?" I asked Ruby as she stormed angrily in a direction _opposite _to where Alicia's office was. Ruby gritted her teeth, and made a sharp left turn.

"Her office is stuck on Lock Down, it can't be deactivated," she explained briefly, still looking pretty incensed.

Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn't help grinning. Looked like it had come back to bite her.


	10. The Unlikely Adventures

_**The Unlikely Adventures of Miss Oswald's Year Eight Gifted and Talented Class**_

* * *

Although you wouldn't think it when you first looked at them, the Year 8 Gifted and Talented Class were actually the very best of friends.

Sure, they always teased each other and made fun of each other and laughed and each other, but it's the sort of thing best friends do to each other.

For example, one day Bradley found a list of (and this was a direct quote) _59 Awesome Ways to Make Your Teacher Wanna Backhand You_. After a bit of research to find out what the word 'backhand' meant, the students came to a collective conclusion that they'd try numbers 1-7 in Mr Pink's class that afternoon.

Therefore, when the bell rung, five very brave students peeked around the door, and darted in, humming the theme to _Mission Impossible _in a very effective three-part harmony. The music teacher would be proud.

Courtney had been able to procure a pair of sunglasses for each of the students taking part in the small-scale prank. The five moved around the room in a very stealthy manner, ducking down low to avoid the gaze of Mr Pink, who was wondering where the music was coming from.

"DAH-DAH-DUMMMM," sang one kid.

"DAH-DAH-DUMMMMM," replied the rest of the class.

"DUM," they all finished together.

The five students slipped quickly into their seats, attempting desperately not to giggle.

The lesson began, and this time the class was learning about linear algebra. A very boring subject to the students.

"...and you need to finish this worksheet in five minutes," said Mr Pink, distributing the pages of maths amongst the students.

"Why?" asked Ruby, who was feeling rather bold today.

He blinked, not expecting this. "Because... it's going on your report card."

"Why?" repeated the girl.

"Because I said so!" Mr Pink snapped.

"Why?"

The teacher then proceeded to begin yelling at Ruby. Everyone snickered good-naturedly, especially when Layla said, very loudly, "Does someone want a hug?"

There was a long silence, as Mr Pink turned slowly towards her. Layla tilted her head.

Mr Pink began to yell at her instead. Layla was not cowed. She folded her arms. "Wow, I can tell you're a real blast at parties."

Everyone laughed, and Mr Pink looked around the room, seeing that he wasn't getting any allies. Even Maebh, who would usually be in the corner, reading quietly, had a massive smile on her face.

Actually, this time someone _was _sitting in the corner. Samson.

The lesson continued fairly normally, until Mr Pink noticed Samson. He stared at him for a moment.

Everyone in the class gradually turned to stare at him too.

"_Ah!_" Samson grabbed his head. "The _light! _It _burns!_"

In the background, chaos reigned. Bradley had started a game of flicking little balls of paper around the classroom, and the class had declared Mr Pink's desk the 'basketball hoop'.

"Hey!" Mr Pink rushed over. "Stop that, okay?"

Ruby crossed her arms, pouting. "What do you have against paper?"

The bell rang.

"Get out," the teached moaned. "Just... get out."

Kelvin, having learnt his lesson a while back, did _not _ask for homework. The class scooped up their books and pencils and quickly hurried out.

It was only when they were all outside when they all turned to each other and cheered loudly, giving each other high fives.

"Oh, that was _awesome!_" declared Matt.

"Did you see me?" asked Layla with no small amount of excitement. "Did you see me being sassy?"

Chattering excitedly, they headed off to recess in a tightly-knit group. A game of Calvinball had been organized for them. No one knew how to play, but that was alright. You didn't _need _to know.

* * *

"Alright," Clara Oswald stalked into her classroom, giving her students an evil glare. "Listen up, everyone."

Every student quietened, and stared at their teacher.

"I _know _what you did in Mr Pink's class today, and I want you all to know that I don't stand for that sort of nonsense. If you pull any of that today, there _will _be consequences."

The kids exchanged glances. Miss Oswald took a deep breath. "However..."

Her manner changed instantly, and she leaned in to the kids. "Did you get any videos?"

Utter silence. She laughed. "Oh, come on. I was the one who posted that list in the first place. I think I was in ninth grade at the time... the _things _they let me get away with back then!"

Courtney was the first to shove her hand up in the air. "I got photos, Miss!"

"So did I!" contributed Kate.

"_I _filmed video," bragged Matt.

Clara grinned down at her class. "Alright, quiet down, everyone. We can exchange pictures after class. Incidentally, my email address is written at the top of the whiteboard, not that any of you would need to use it."

She winked. Bradley copied down the address onto a scrap of paper, and began passing it around that classroom.

"And now that everyone is sufficiently excited, today we are writing poetry. In specific, adventure poems."

She explained that poems don't necessarily have to rhyme, only have a good sense of rhythm. She demonstrated this by tapping out a beat on her desk, and reciting 'Humpty Dumpty' She showed them examples of well-written poems, and asked some people to read them out.

"_Out of the sound of the ebb-and-flow_," read Maebe.

"_Out of the sight of lamp and star,_

_It calls you where the good winds blow,_

_And the unchanging meadows are;_

_From faded hopes and hopes agleam,_

_It calls you, calls you night and day_

_Beyond the dark into the dream_

_Over the hills and far away._"

There was a short silence.

"Thank you, Maebh," smiled Miss Oswald. "That is... one of my favorite poems."

Courtney grinned, a grin that was for Miss Oswald alone. She knew perfectly well why it was her favorite poem.

"Today we're going to be writing our own poetry. It can rhyme or not rhyme, depending on what you want it to sound like. Just remember, it has to have rhythm." She thumped the desk again in demonstration. "Make it an adventure! And no haikus."

She wrote 'Adventure Poetry' neatly on the chalkboard, underlining it twice, before turning back to the class. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

There was a flurry of paper and movement as all of the children took out their notebook and started to scribble down lists of rhyming words and ideas.

Clara was content to watch them, but a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Miss?" said Liam. "It's the caretaker."

"Well, he can wait." Clara stared out of the window.

"No, Miss," said Courtney. "It's the _other _caretaker."

Clara didn't often swear, but at the moment she felt like it. Just very quietly, underneath her breath. She managed to restrain herself, and stalked over to the door.

"Keep working," she snapped and opened it sharply, stepping out and closing it behind her. "_What is it this time._"

"Clara, we have a problem," said the Doctor, his Scottish accent underlining every word. "There's this alien-"

"And _you can do it without me_," she hissed. "You do realize that I'm in the middle of a lesson?"

"Bring the kids along with you!" he suggested.

"No. I'm working today and _that is final_. You go fix your alien problem, but do it without involving anyone. Got it?"

Sending him a final glare, she turned around, and re-entered her classroom, remembering to compose herself at the last second. "Right. Where were we?"

"Poetry," piped up Cheri.

"Poetry, right. Maebh, would you like to read yours out?"

She gave a small, shy nod, and stood up. "I called it, _Midnight_."

"Well, that's not creepy at all," Finn commented. Everyone shushed him. Maebh had a reputation for being an avid reader and writer, and all of the students wanted to hear what she had written.

She cleared her throat several times.

"_Tick, tock._

_When classrooms flicker off their light,_

_All teachers gone for the night,_

_The school is dark,_

_All life is gone,_

_Away._

_But in the darkness, Something's lurking,_

_You can't hear it, but It's smirking,_

_Made of darkness,_

_Made of fear,_

_They say._

_Tick, tock._

_Then down the hallways, footsteps creaking,_

_Comes the Monster, drifting, sneaking,_

_Claws of diamond,_

_Rip all hope,_

_Away._

_One night, a girl steps into there,_

_Sent into blackness for a dare,_

_Dark presses down,_

_So unlike,_

_The day._

_Tick, tock._"

The poem continued in that vein for several more verses, detailing the monster's fearsome abilities, and the girl's terror, interjecting the tick of a clock between every two verses. Finally, Maebh reached the climax.

"_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock, goes the clock._

_MIDNIGHT._"

She paused poignantly.

"_You may run, you may hide,_

_You may try to stay inside,_

_But soon Its jaws will open wide,_

_And soon you will be gone_."

Complete silence filled the classroom. Everyone was hanging onto her words.

"_When classrooms flicker off their light,_

_All teachers gone for the night,_

_The school is dark,_

_All life is gone,_

_Away._

_But in the darkness, Something's lurking,_

_You can't hear it, but It's smirking,_

_Made of darkness,_

_Made of fear,_

_They say._"

She coughed quietly, and sat down.

Miss Oswald clapped loudly, but no one else made a sound.

"That was... _creepy,_" said Bradley finally. Maeve grinned.  
"I aim to please," she replied.

"Congratulations, Maebe," smirked Courtney. "You just managed to royally freak the class out."

The tension was broken, and everyone laughed. The bell rang, and Miss Oswald tapped her email address on the board pointedly.

"Homework- improve your poem over the weekend," she told them. "All except you, Maebh. I don't think you could if you tried."

As the class filed out, no one noticed the Doctor watching quietly from a window. Not even Miss Oswald.

The Doctor didn't notice the red eyes that were watching _him _from behind.

* * *

At lunch, the Year Eights gathered behind the cafeteria for a hasty council meeting. Ruby had been elected as temporary chairperson for the moment, after a quick and violent debate.

"Good job, Maebh!" congratulated Layla. "You're going to write novels when you grow up!"

Everyone made noises of agreement, and Maebh blushed. Ruby tapped on her lunch box impatiently. "Excuse me, everyone. That's not why we're here."

"Yeah, we're here to discuss Miss Oswald's _boyfriend,_" Courtney said.

"Which one?" Matt piped up, causing everyone to dissolve into giggles. It took five whole minutes and Sally actually screaming- everyone's eardrums nearly burst- to get them all to shut up.

"_Right_," Ruby punctuated this with a glare. "We're talking about her _older _boyfriend. We all know when he shows up, trouble will follow."

Murmured agreement.

"Let's find the trouble first," Courtney offered. Matt gave her a high-five.

Maebh looked slightly unsure, as did a lot of other kids. "I don't know. If he's involved, it might be dangerous."

"Danger is my middle name!" boasted Arwen.

"No, it isn't," Ruby said. "It's Johnson."

Layla sighed.

The arguing continued until the bell went, signalling that Music Class was about to begin.


	11. Lab Rat

_This was a Portal crossover that I never got around to finishing. I had grand plans for this, and I'm pretty sad that it didn't work out._

_Ah well._

_I decided to put it here as a reminder of lost opportunities._

* * *

**Lab Rat**

* * *

**PROLOGUE: Seeing**

In the furthest reaches of Space and Time, a lone police box drifts, occasionally flipping over and twisting from side to side while it travels through the Vortex. The light on top, usually lit up bright yellow, is dull and grey. It looks abandoned.

In a dark and gloomy bedroom in the depths of a laboratory, a funny little man sleeps. His old, wrinkled face is at peace, and an umbrella with a red handle lies across his chest. He shows no sign of waking at the moment, but who knows what the future might hold?

In a different part of the same vast laboratory, worn away by time, a mighty robotic head twitches back and forth, running calculations, retrieving data, initiating scans. There's work to do, and it's going to do it.

And in a glass chamber, a girl wakes up.

But that doesn't matter right now.

This is the Universe. Sometimes up Is up, down is down, left and right are exactly what they say on the tin, and the rocks on Androma Minor IX are purple.

And other times one plus one doesn't equal two, it equals exactly 1792 and a whole bucket of chickens.

Sometimes, seeing isn't always believing. Sometimes our minds trick us, and other times people are tricking us on purpose. After all, not everything is definite.

Is it?

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: For Science**

The Girl woke up.

For a moment, she was completely disoriented. She didn't know who she was, or what she was doing, or where this place she was in was. She gripped tightly to the cold metal of her bed frame, grounding herself to reality, and the moment passed.

Except.

Except there was still one problem.

She still didn't know who she was _or _what she was doing _or _where she was. She didn't even know her name. It was a very disturbing thought. To distract herself from that fact, she stood up, taking in her surroundings properly.

Glass walls, concrete floor. Nothing special. The space-age style bed she had woken up on, which had sealed itself when she wasn't looking. A small stool, upon which lay a radio pumping out a cheery tune that sounded forced and was getting annoying quickly. Next to that was a mug of… something… and a clipboard, which she promptly snatched up and tried to read. The words were fuzzy. After a minute of trying, she threw it to the floor in frustration. She had forgotten how to read. Or maybe she had never known in the first place.

The Girl continued scanning the room. A toilet, in the corner. What kind of pervert put a toilet in a glass room? No way of getting out or in. How was she there, then?

She peered out through the glass at her dark surroundings. The only source of light was a flickering bulb that seemed hesitant if it should live or not. As far as she could tell, she was in a laboratory. Why would she be in a laboratory? Was she some kind of… experiment?

She stepped back, trying to look at her reflection in the glass. The lightbulb was unreliable, and she only could catch a glimpse of herself. Brown hair, tied back in a neat ponytail, and a fairly plain, unremarkable face. Not that she'd currently have a problem trying to get a job as a supermodel, or anything. Glancing down at herself, she estimated herself at roughly eighteen years old. She was wearing an orange jumpsuit, which fit her pretty well. Not baggy. There was a logo over her left breast. She squinted at it, puzzling out the letters. A weird, circular design which meant nothing to her… and then A – P – E – R-

There was a loud clanging above, and she jumped, startled. The grinding of machinery drowned out even the annoying looping music from the radio.

"_Hello,_" said a deep, masculine voice. There was a pause, and then, "_wait, that's not right._ _Hello._" It increased in about an octave. "_Hello_. _Hello!_" it added, rising an octave again. "_Oh, that's better. Right. Let's take this from the beginning._"

The voice was cold and had a tinge of the robotic to it. It was unmistakably feminine, and had the same detached amusement that you might attribute to a scientist about to trap a particularly interesting specimen of beetle in formaldehyde.

"_Hello,_" the voice repeated for the fifth time. "_And, again, welcome to the Aperture computer-aided Enrichment Centre._"

The Girl glanced down at her chest again, and read the logo emblazoned there. _Aperture. _Did she belong to them, or something?

"_You are about to embark on a series of tests designed to test your physical and mental capabilities. The Centre requires me to inform you that there is no doubt that you will survive these tests. However,_" the voice took on a slightly nastier quality. "_I really do hate to lie._"

The Girl swallowed, hard, and opened her mouth. "Who-" she coughed a bit, and tried again. "-who are you? Who am… I?"

Her voice was rusty from disuse. She couldn't even remember using it at all before.

"_Oh,_" said the voice, dispassionately. "_You can speak. How very clever of you._"

"Please," the Girl said. "Who am I?" As she spoke, she realized that she rather liked the sound of her voice. Plummy and… British. Maybe it was good for shouting with.

The voice seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"_That information is at a classification level which-_"

It stopped again.

"Yes?" asked the Girl, realizing that she could get angry. It was a very useful skill to have.

"_Please proceed through the portal,_" the voice said finally. An orange-rimmed hole opened in the wall with a peculiar _zoink _sound. Through it, the Girl could see a view of outside the glass box. There was a similar portal, but blue, outside the box. They seemed to be connected.

The Girl clenched her fists, and picked up the clipboard from the ground. She threw it at the speaker from which the voice was emitting. "Bitch."

"_What an unnecessary display of violence,_" hummed the voice. "_It's what I would have expected from a person like you. Maybe the extended stay in the containment facility damaged your brain functions. Step through the portal._"

The Girl marched over to the wall purposefully, and poked an arm through it. She glanced over at the blue portal on the outside. An arm was sticking out. Hers.

"_Step through the portal._"

She strode through, trying to look confident. The portal collapsed inwards on itself. So no going back that way, then. She walked around the glass box to a sliding door and stepped through. It buzzed shut behind her, and for a moment, everything was dark.

"_Usually, I would give test subjects some time to acclimatise to our style of testing,_" the voice said suddenly. "_But in the short time we've known each other; I've grown to hate you already. So I'm not going to bother_."

The lights flashed on abruptly, and the Girl blinked, put off guard. There was nothing in the room, except for a pedestal in the very centre. Upon it lay a sleek black-and-white gun, emblazoned with the same logo that was on her jumpsuit. She moved cautiously towards it, and picked it up. It beeped and glowed with power.

"_You are now in possession of the Aperture Handheld Portal Device,_" lectured the voice in a bored tone. "_The standard warnings apply. Don't dunk it in water, don't feed it to your hamster, keep it away from malfunctioning intelligence cores. To use: point the blunt end at any approved surface and pull the shiny trigger._"

The Girl, puzzled, wrapped her finger around the trigger on the left and pointed the gun at the wall opposite her. She pulled, and the gun hummed in her hands, spitting out a thin stream of sparks and electricity at the wall. A portal, exactly like the one in her room, was now burning on the wall.

"Wicked," she breathed, and fired again, with the other trigger. An orange portal fizzed into existence besides her.

"_Congratulations,_" said the voice dryly. "_You have mastered use of the Aperture Handheld Portal Device. Fitting, considering that it was what you used to attempt to kill me last time with._"

The Girl's mouth began to form a question, but she was cut off. "_Don't bother asking. Prepare to proceed to the first testing chamber._"

The ground creaked.

"_For science._"

It creaked again.

"_You monster._"

The floor beneath the Girl split in half before it disappeared completely.

It took all of her effort not to scream as she fell.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: System Rewrite**

The man in the dilapidated bedroom sat up, throwing his umbrella off onto the floor.

"Mel?" he whispered to the room. The three-letter word echoed for a moment, until he realized that it was so very wrong. "No… not Mel. Ace?"

There was no response, and the man became gradually aware of his surroundings. It was completely bare, save for the bed, a small locked cupboard and a ripped, scorched picture hanging forlornly on the wall. He stood up, and examined the picture for a moment before striding over to the door and rattling it.

The man in the room had many names. Grandfather, Lord President, the Oncoming Storm, Ka Faraq Gatri, and to one specific girl, Professor. But he was generally known by one title.

The Doctor.

He rattled the handle a final time, before admitting defeat, and sitting back on the bed.

"It's not as if I particularly _expected _it to work…" he muttered under his breath. He raised his voice. "Is anyone there? I seem to have been locked in a room with no way out."

No response, again.

"Don't make me resort to extreme measures," he warned half-heartedly.

Silence.

"Very well," he said, and rummaged in his pockets for something. He pulled out a slim metal stick with a red light at the tip, and pointed it at the locked cupboard in the corner. It wouldn't work on the door- it was wood, with a deceptively simple lock on the other side- but he _could _meddle with the electronics easily.

The locking mechanism disengaged with a _chk_, and the Doctor pulled out wires and cables, twisting them together, and using several paperclips hidden in yet another pocket, started to rewire the system so it would listen to him.

A speaker above crackled into life.

"_I would advise against doing that,_" said a smooth female voice, with a slight edge to it. "_After all, you wouldn't want to become the newest member of our exclusive 'Exposed to Deadly Neurotoxins' Club._"

The Doctor crossed his legs, and applied his sonic screwdriver to two circuits, soldering them together. He blew on them gently. "I assume I'm talking to the system. How do you do? I'm the Doctor."

"_Your specimen has been recorded. Please stop messing with my systems._"

_Not a chance, _he thought, but out loud he said, "I will if you tell me where my friend is."

The voice of the system hummed, sounding smug. "_What friend?_"

"However you brought me here, she must have come with me too. Tell me where she is. Average height, brown hair, and a tendency to blow up anything she doesn't like. Her name's Ace. She's hard to miss."

There was a long silence.

"_No record of any subject by the name of 'Ace' in my files,_" said the system. "_Step back from the access panel, and I may give you cake._"

The Doctor scowled, and applied the full force of his irritation to his screwdriver, which in turn spat out some sparks.

"_Ow,_" said the voice after a moment. "_That wasn't polite._"

There was a series of beeps and clicks as the system's connection to the Doctor's room was lost. The computer couldn't see or hear him now. It had no idea what he was currently doing.

He was on his own, now and he could do whatever he liked.

He pulled out a keyboard from the side, and switched on the interface. With a series of swift keystrokes, he hacked into the main data core. Numbers and codes scrolled, reflected in green and black on his face.

After a few minutes of searching, he realized a number of things.

One abbreviation kept repeating itself. _GLaDOS. _A bit more digging revealed that this stood for Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System. It was connected to all major systems, and appeared to be some form of artificial intelligence. It had access to every room in the massive complex he was in, excepting his bedroom, of course.

There were audio files scattered all through the security levels, too. He flipped one to the front of the interface, opening it.

"_You know, I've been thinking,_" began a haughty man's voice. "_Aperture Laboratories has been working on varied types of tech at the moment, most notably the portal gun. You know, shooty thingy, lets you get from one place to another. Well, why not take our innovations a bit further? Introducing the new Aperture Science Clone-o-Matic, does exactly what it says on the tin. The lab boys tell me that the first clones should be ready for testing soon. Cave Johnson, out._"

"Extract ends," the Doctor said, almost to himself, tapping anxiously at the keyboard. "Cloning, hm?"

He closed the system down, carefully sweeping away any sign that he had been in the system as he went. The digital equivalent of covering your tracks. He opened the door to his room, and shut down the system entirely. The voice had been telling the truth when it had said that there was no record of an 'Ace' in the system, or even a 'Dorothy'. But that didn't mean that she couldn't have been filed under something else. After all, it hadn't known his name until he had told it.

Now, to find her.

And maybe cause some trouble along the way.

_Hi, universe. It's me, Ace. It would be really nice if you could throw me a _deus ex machina_ right now. I think I deserve it, after all the times I helped save you. _

_I don't know where I am._

_Dark._

_No light._

_DARK._

_NO LIGHT._

_How did I get here so confused was just in the TARDIS must have fallen asleep DARK._

_Oh god, where am I? Professor?_

_…Doctor…?_

_Anyone?_

_Help me, please. It's so cold and dark and lonely here and I think I'm going insane but how would I know because insane people don't know they're insane and time doesn't pass where ever I am so I have no idea how long it's been sitting here I don't even know if I have a body because it's DARK and I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM help._

_Help._

_Help?_

_HeLp._

_hElP_

_Help_

_Hel_

_He_

_H_

_h_

_._

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: Target Acquired**

The Girl landed squarely on her feet, and it didn't hurt at all, which was strange. Not even a twisted ankle to show for the fact that she had plummeted several meters from a ceiling that had promptly sealed itself up behind her. She glanced down at her feet, and noticed for the first time that she had boots, and not just normal boots either. These ones had some sort of curved heel attached that seemed to absorb impact. She bounced up and down experimentally, enjoying the way that she seemed to spring off the ground smoothly.

"_Testing protocol requires that I tell you the following about this chamber,_" said the voice that the Girl had dubbed some very rude names in the private confines of her head. "_If you make it to the exit door without dying, you receive a very special treat. You get to go to the next level._"

"Yippee," said the Girl without enthusiasm. The voice continued on, unabashed.

"_Protocol also states that I should tell you about the robot that will be trying to viciously murder you the entire time. I wasn't going to bother, but then I just spoke._"

The doors in front of the Girl slid open smoothly, and instantly red laser fire peppered the ground in front of her.

"_Hello, friend,_" chirped a strange white robot. "_Target acquired._"

A laser bolt struck her across the arm. _Ow, ow, ow._ She gasped in pain, biting down hard on her lip, and dove across the room to hide behind a wall that bisected the room. Furious, she sat down against the wall, and wrenched her sleeve up, examining the skin. It was burnt a raw, ugly red, and now that she came to think about it, hurt like _hell. _She gingerly prodded it with a finger, and winced as pain lanced up her arm and jittered through her fingers. "Shit. That's going to make the gun a hell of a lot harder to carry."

Sure enough, as she stood up, the gun seemed quite a bit heavier than before. She hefted it into a comfortable enough position, and quickly peeked around the wall. The single red eye of the robot-thing (it looked like a cute children's toy, but appearances could be deceiving) stared at her. "_Hello?_"

She ducked back. Apparently it couldn't move, which was good. It meant that she could probably drop behind it or something.

"_Is anyone there?_" it called, beeping and whirring forlornly. It had a cute voice to go with its cute appearance, which really was kind of sick. It probably sang nursery rhymes as it killed you.

She leaned around the corner quickly, firing a blue portal on the roof just behind the robot. She placed the orange one on the wall in front of her, and was greeted by a mind bending sight; a birds eye view shown vertically. She closed her eyes, and jumped through.

_The world flipped._

And she was standing behind the robot. It couldn't see her, but it knew she was there.

"_Hello?_" it asked.

She picked it up gingerly, like it was a cat that might bite at any moment.

"_Please put me down._"

She considered bringing it along with her for a moment, for protection or something. Maybe she could trick it into thinking that other types of it were her. But she already had a rather handy gun that was weighing her down, and she didn't have any technical knowledge, so…

"_Please put me down._"

"Sure thing," she said, and threw it to the ground, kicking it hard as it fell. It flew through the air, hitting a wall, and slid across the floor on its side. The one red eye flickered erratically, and a thin, weak laser brushed over the Girl's stomach. She tensed instinctively, but it didn't do any harm to her. It was just a light. It flickered once more, and the little robot died.

She stared at it for a moment. Small, white, and completely innocent-looking.

"Sorry," she said, a bit pathetically. "Nothing personal, mate. It was just…"

She stopped, and looked up towards the roof. There was a door with a sign pointing towards it. The symbols were clear. It was an exit.

"…just…"

_…survival._

Was there really any point to her surviving, though? She didn't know who she was, or where she had come from. Maybe she had just been some tramp, living on the streets before this. Maybe no one knew who she was. Maybe no one cared.

Maybe someone did.

Maybe she had a family, or people who loved her and were wondering where she was.

She couldn't give up. Hope was important, after all.

She fired two portals. One at the exit platform above her head, and one beneath her feet. She enjoyed the sudden rush of air as she fell through, landing easily in front of the door. It slid open.

"_Congratulations,_" the female voice said. "_You have managed to delay the inevitability of your slow, painful demise for another few minutes. I hope you're pleased with yourself._"

The Girl walked briskly through the door and through an electrical barrier that made her skin tingle all over. At the end of a short corridor, there was a round, circular room with an elevator in it. The doors opened, and she stepped in.

"_Here's an interesting fact. Did you know that human beings will sometimes force themselves to believe ridiculous and outlandish ideas instead of accepting the painful truth?_"

She scowled upwards, and resolved to stop talking until the end of the next test.

There was a torch in the Doctor's pocket, which was useful, considering that the system seemed to have turned all the lights off to make it harder for him. The small patch of light darted from wall to wall as the diminutive Time Lord made his way through the complex. He hummed a deleted song from _Pirates of Penzance, _the cheery tune falling flat in the darkness.

There were a number of things bothering him, not least the fact that Ace was nowhere to be found. Any memory he had of arriving at this place- or even being taken forcibly- wasn't there. It was as if he had simply fallen asleep in the console room, and woken up here. It was worrying. He wasn't quite old enough to start losing his memory yet.

Or maybe he was, and he had just forgotten.

The door to his immediate left had a sign that said 'KEEP OUT' on it, which was almost an invitation. It was the work of seconds to open the electronic lock, and it took even less time to stride through the door.

He stood on the edge of a vast, noisy cavern, filled with clanking machinery moving in some set perimeter that was impossible to divine at this moment.

* * *

_Aaaand that's as far as I got. :D_


	12. Story Starters

_Hi, everyone! I was trawling through my hard drive, and I found some story starters that I thought I might as well share with you, since I'm never actually going to finish them. They range in length and mostly are 7 and Ace. Sorry about that..._

_Kitty_

* * *

They were taking her to the Machine.

She kicked at their legs, and bit at their arms, and scratched and fought like a cheetah, but they just stared straight ahead and continued on. Her throat was raw from screaming, and she hadn't washed in days. And next to her-

-her betrayer.

Dressed in a crisp brown suit, with a white straw hat perched jauntily on his head, umbrella tucked under his arm, he looked all for the world as if he were walking down the street to get some eggs. _She _knew better. _She _knew that a world of treachery and misdirection was hidden underneath. The warm smile he flashed at the subordinates was just trickery, a way to get what he wanted.

She stumbled a bit as the two men at either side of her jolted her forward just a bit too fast, and he was immediately at her side, stopping her from falling over. She straightened herself up pointedly. _I can stand, thanks._

"Get your hands off me," she hissed.

He stepped back with something close to hurt on his face, but she didn't care. She could think of several choice words to throw at him, and most of them were four letters and not in most dictionaries.

They were nearing their destination now- the big wooden door at the end of the hall. It was the office of the Co-ordinator. It was where the screams that occasionally haunted her at night came from.

It was the place where absolutely no-one wanted to be.

She put up one last fight- _if they were going to force her, she wouldn't make it easy for them- _but they dragged her inside with _him _following and shutting the door as they went through.

The Co-ordinator glanced up, steel-grey eyes flicking over his glasses. They came to rest on her, and she glared back with as much fire as she could manage.

She was most definitely not here of her own accord.

Three days ago- running through the woods outside the City, laughing with her friends, and then the distant crackle of Laserfire as the Guards came for her. They shouldn't have known where she was. They _couldn't _have- unless someone had told them. The pain of a Laser as it shot across her back- and then nothing.

And then, here.

Hell itself.

"Have you agreed to cooperate with us, Miss McShane?" the Co-ordinator asked, setting his papers down on the desk and folding his hands pleasantly in front of himself.

"Not a chance," she spat, throwing herself down into the opposite chair. "Were you expecting me to say something different?"

He smiled, much like a grandfather would to a particularly misbehaving child.

* * *

oOo

* * *

"You're a control freak," she tells him frankly. He pretends not to hear her, and takes a sip of his tea, apparently engrossed in whatever wonders lie in the dregs of hot British beverages.

"Would you like some bacon?" he says, trying to change the subject. He's a strict vegetarian, but manages to somehow cook for her. "I think there's some in the freezer that I can fry up-"

"-and that," she says, cutting across him. "is _exactly _what I'm talking about."  
Bacon is a good idea, he decides, and pulls out the frying pan. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She rolls her eyes, and drinks her orange juice in one gulp. "Oh, come off it. You're always trying to go head-to-head with the universe, trying to take control of everything, absolutely sure that you can 'do it all yourself'."

"I hadn't noticed," he says mildly, taking the bacon out of its packaging and plopping it neatly into the pan where it begins to sizzle.

She gives him a wry smile. "Sure you do. And all this almighty 'holier-than-thou' stuff- seriously, it's got to stop sometime."

The bacon fries, sending a rich scent around the small kitchen they're in. "Are you saying," he says eventually, whisking a plate from the countertop, and flipping the bacon through the air to land on it. "that I have Napoleon Complex?"

She wrinkles her nose. "What's that when it's at home?"

"Small man's complex," he reiterates, placing the dish of bacon in front of her.

"Ah," her face clears. "Right. Where smaller men try to assert their presence by overcompensating, right?"

"Not that I do that," he assures her, pouring himself another cup of tea.

She begins to laugh. "Oh my god, you actually think that, don't you?"

He makes a disgruntled face that quickly morphs into a smile. "Well, I do occasionally have my moments, don't I?"

She continues laughing, and eats a rasher of bacon. "You're all right, honestly."

"I'm glad to have your stamp of approval," he quips. "Now, if you're quite finished with psychoanalysing every aspect of my personality, I was wondering if you'd like to pick our next destination?"

"Changing the subject," she points out, but she's thinking hard. "Give me a map, and I'll see what I can do."

He waves his hands a bit, and appears to pluck an ancient-looking atlas from nowhere. She catches it as he throws it neatly to her, and shakes her head as she flicks through the pages. "One of these days you're going to show me exactly how you do that."

He taps the side of his nose and winks. She sighs, and then brightens. "Oh!"

He finishes off his cup of tea, and sets it in the sink. "You've found something, then?"

"It's _perfect!_"

She slams the book, open at the center page, down onto the wooden kitchen table, and points at a section. He comes over to look. The bit that she's pointing at is completely blank, except for three words, etched in a spidery, old-fashioned script.

Here Be Dragons.

"What are we waiting for, then?" he asks, a smile spreading across his face. It's infectious, and now she's grinning too.

They walk out of the room together, hand in hand.

The light turns off.

A plate of half-finished bacon sits on the old wooden table, next to the long-forgotten atlas.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Impact.

The force of the bullet slams through her shoulder, cutting through skin and muscle, and it's not quite hurting yet, and why isn't it hurting yet? Aren't guns supposed to hurt you? That's what she's always been told-

{{-"What does getting shot feel like?" she asks over her milkshake. He stares at her with the look that she's dubbed the 'sad-eye look'.

"What makes you think I know?" he replies.

'You know everything, and you've done everything,' she thinks but doesn't say, and takes another sip of her drink-}}

-and now it really is beginning to hurt, with a pain like a thousand knives digging into her flesh, and she got stabbed by a meat cleaver once, by accident, but it was nothing like this. She tries desperately not to scream, but can't help letting out a small gasp of pain as her legs tumble out from beneath her and her arms scrabble at the ground, trying to hold herself upright-

{{-she's falling, falling, and there's no one to catch her. She wishes she could have done more with her life as she looks almost languidly at the ground that's looming below her. And then arms are wrapped around her and she laughs with delight at the sheer joy of being alive.

"Well, you took your time!" she scolds. He just smiles-}}

-but there's no one to catch her this time, and she lies, splayed out on the dusty floor of the warehouse, breathing heavily in and out. In and out. In and out. It's a struggle to do that, even. Voices, above. Someone shouting her name. She can't quite make out the words of what they're saying-

* * *

oOo

* * *

Once upon a time there was a young girl named Dorothy who was swept up in a storm and taken away to a fairyland.

(Except the fairyland wasn't so much a fairyland as a dull, dark world of endless ice, which was nothing like she had imagined.)

Because, you see, not all stories have happy endings. The princess doesn't always get rescued by the price- sometimes she wakes up bearing twins in the middle of the night; the witch isn't always killed- sometimes she escapes into the woods; and the hero isn't always a hero.

(But maybe for Dorothy it would be different.)

A Wizard turned up out of nowhere, in a magic blue box, and whisked her away to actual fairylands, and places with creatures out of her wildest imagination and beyond.

* * *

oOo

* * *

Amy Pond browsed through the library, running her fingers along the spines of the books. _Encyclopedia Galactica, The Idiot's Guide to Quantum Physics, 50 Shades of Green... _nothing that really caught her attention. The library of the TARDIS seemed to be organized in a way that meant that nothing was where you expected it to be. Cooking books were piled next to books on poisonous animal, which was vaguely scary, she thought. And of course there was the small matter of the large, Olympic-Sized swimming pool, right in the middle of the non-fiction section. It could be nice at times, when you wanted to just lie back in the water and read, but if you weren't looking where you were going, bad things were likely to happen. Such as getting your brand new, designer, clothes soaked with chlorinated water. This had happened to Amy on more than one occasion.

Today, however, she wasn't worried about swimming pools, since she was at the other side of the library. All she wanted to do was find a good book.

* * *

oOo

* * *

She's always there, in the shadows, always watching, always waiting, always looking at him.

Always him.

She recalls something someone, somewhere, once said- he burned like starfire. And like starfire, he is captivating and wonderful, but she needs to look away, or she'll burn her eyes.

Like starfire, she can't look away. He's the most engaging thing she's ever seen in her life.

There will be others after her- many, many other, all like her, watching from the shadows, smiling softly at anything he does that's klutzy or just plain stupid, and screaming silently when he's about to die.

They're all cursed to watch. Never to talk to him. Always there, drifting in the background.

Unseen.

She _wants _to break the rule, the solid rule that none of them can break. It's like a pressure in her head, telling her to _stop right there _and _don't go any further _and _you will be punished _but she ignores it, pushing on.

He's standing there on the rooftop, watching the silent stars go by in their cosmic dance. He doesn't even notice her. She smiles at his childish sense of wonder at the universe.

* * *

oOo

* * *

War was hell, as an old friend in a multi-coloured scarf had told her once.

She had never fully appreciated the gravity of that statement until now.

The Lady President of Gallifrey- although not ruling over anything at the moment. What did that make her? President of a ragtag jumble of rebels that were practically unable to stand up. The odds were stacked up against them. There was no possible way that they could go up against Pandora.

Those were excellent odds, Romana thought.

Over there, in the corner; Leela. Blind, but still proud and fierce. A cloak draped over her shoulders and she looked to be trying to sleep.

* * *

oOo

* * *

"We've both done bad things," says Romana at one point as they look out onto the twin moons of Akrytor. The glowing orbs of light are beginning to set, sending tendrils of light and colour dancing across their faces. "Things that we regret."

The Other hums, crossing his legs, and looks up. "Well, at least no one got hurt."

Romana blinks at him.

"No one that we knew, I mean."

She frowns.

"Well, no one that we _cared_ about."

Romana sighs, and rests her head against the other Time Lord's shoulder. "I don't know why I put up with you."

The Other smiles. "I do."

* * *

The first time they met, from Romana's point of view, was the day that Mars burns. There was nothing that she could do to stop it, so she watched from high on a hill, the flames dancing in her eyes.

"Romana," called a voice, and she instinctively turned to see a person that she had never seen in her lives. "Romana, the planet's about to explode. For Rassilon's sake, _get out of here!_"

"I'm sorry," she said. "Who are you?"

He stared at her incredulously. "You don't remember? Paris and mummies?"

They looked at each other for a beat before it clicked. "Bugger," said Romana. "Time travel again?"

"Looks like it," he sighed. "I'm the Other. Hello.

"Romana," the Time Lady introduced herself. "But… I suppose you already knew that."

"Indeed." He extended a hand towards her. "Care for a spot of running for your lives? There happens to be an Ice Warrior about to chop your head off."

She yelped, and grabbed hold of his hand just as an axe spun down towards her head. He yanked her forwards, and soon they were dashing towards Romana's TARDIS.

"You know," panted Romana. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

From the Other's point of view, he first saw her standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower, facing off a mummy from the dawn of Time. He had instructions for strictly non-intervention, but those sort of protocols kind of go out the window when you see someone being menaced by something out of a horror film.

"Hey, you!" he called, fighting his way through the incredulous crowd. "Get away from her!"

The mummy glanced his way, and roared incoherently.

"I had it under control!" yelled the woman. "And now it's going to chase you instead. Good going, genius- wait, is that _you?_"

"Never seen you before in my life," the Other said, now whacking the mummy with a handy umbrella. "But if we get out of this alive, want to go for coffee?"

"Why not," sighed the woman, and rugby-tackled the monster. "I'm Romanadvoratrelundar, by the way. Call me Romana."

Together, they pushed the mummy off the Tower, where it hit the ground with a crunchy-sounding splat.

"So," said Romana, dusting her hands off. "Coffee?"

* * *

oOo

* * *

And finally, a one-sentence thing that I never expanded on, and it might have been interesting if continued-

"Defeating a sentient string of numbers doesn't sound like my idea of a good time, Doctor!"


	13. FlipBack

**At the beginning of the year, I had grand plans to write my own awesome audio, in the style of Big Finish Companion Chronicles. As you can probably guess, it didn't work out. These are the shattered remains of what it could have been. It really _does _tie in to Doctor Who. Why, look at the names of the two main characters!**

***coughcoughCharleyPollardcoughLucieMillercoughcough***

**Er, sorry. Anyway, I've been wanting to post some more stuff in this collection for ages. I only just found this thing. So... here we go!**

* * *

**CHARLOTTE**

Hi.

I guess you want me to tell you what happened. On that night. The thirteenth of February. (_pause) _All right. But don't say I didn't warn you.

My name's Charlotte Baker. I'm fourteen years old, and go to school in Liverpool, although I don't really have the accent. I've lived there since my parents died, when I was seven. It wasn't the actual car crash that did it for them. They died from blood loss after the glass from the windscreen ripped apart their skin. I live with my aunt, who's nice for the most part, but doesn't let me go on the computer like the other kids in my class, or have a mobile phone. Or a dog. Or a cat, or a fish, or a hamster, or even a harmless microscopic dust mite. My life's not that glamorous, to be perfectly honest. I go to school, listen to the teachers, read a few books, do the homework, and end up with average grades. I thought back then that I wouldn't do much with my life, maybe pass my exams at the end of Year 12 and get a job in the local library sorting books, and that would have been good enough for me. Life's like that, you know? Sometimes you just get the short straw, and you can't do anything about it, just hope that it'll get better. If it doesn't, oh well, keep on going. If it does, great! (_pause_) Sometimes, though, it gets worse. And you can't do anything about that, either.

I should probably tell this in the right order, shouldn't I?

It was the 11th of February when it all began, really. Just a normal Wednesday for me. I packed my backpack for school, and made lunch. A ham and cheese sandwich with pickles, a slice of cake from last night, and some biscuits. Nothing special. "Love you!" I yelled to Aunt Kat, and out the front door I went. To the bus stop, which is a few streets away.

It was a fairly dark morning, which was unusual for February, but I figured it was something like daylight savings or the tilt of the Earth or some other perfectly reasonable scientific explanation. Birds chirped noisily in the trees around me, and there was the faint rustle of some wild animal in the bushes nearby. I got to the bus stop early, and waited for about five minutes. I was the only person there. I stared at nothing for a while until the bus came, rumbling around the corner like some great mythical beast that billowed out smoke from behind it instead of through its mouth. Once I had gotten on, and paid the driver, I sat down at my usual place, near the back. I like to look out the window and watch the trees go by, and imaging how it would be like to fly on a broom or a carpet through the air. But this time, it was different. There was an old man sitting in front of me. He had silver-grey hair, cropped into a neat sort-of hairstyle, and a cane placed neatly on his lap. I knew it was rude to stare, but I did, and for quite a while. He looked out of place amongst all of the kids, like he should belong in some sort of old people's home, not next to a bunch a bunch of hyperactive adolescents. The girl sitting next to him didn't find it bizarre at all, and when I thought about it, I hadn't seen her around at our school. Maybe she was a new kid.

The bus rumbled on, stopping occasionally to pick up people. The seats gradually filled up, and some people had to stand. I held my backpack on my lap, looking around the bus, and sending occasional glances at the man, who showed no sign of getting off at a stop. He seemed content to sit perfectly still, or so I thought until he turned to look at me. Not anyone else. Just me.

His eyes were the stormiest grey that I had ever seen.

I sat there, almost paralysed by his gaze for a moment. I thought about apologizing, but what would I apologize for? Staring wasn't a crime, just slightly rude. He examined me like you might look at a goldfish in a glass aquarium; slowly, with almost a morbid curiosity. _You're going to die soon, and there's nothing I can do about it. I might flush you down the toilet afterwards._

"Do you happen to have the time?" he asked suddenly, and I may have gaped at him slightly. I quickly scrabbled at my sleeve, pulling it up to look at my watch. Analog, in case you were wondering. "It's 8.37," I told him. He nodded. "Thank you."

He turned away, and that was that. I was strangely shaken by the experience. The bus stopped with a jolt, and I realised that it was my fault. Quickly swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I sprang down the steps, and out the bus doors. As it pulled away from where I was standing, I noticed something very odd.

The man and the girl sitting next to him were gone.

**LUCY**

Charlotte was taking a long time to get to our usual spot. Yeah, I'm Lucy Davis. Her best friend, although she completely denies it every time you ask. We meet every day at a quarter to nine underneath the school notice board in the main building. It's a kind of ritual that we have, ever since we met. I may have beat her up a bit, very slightly, but we've been the best of buddies ever since.

_(Running footsteps)_

Charlotte Baker! Where the hell have you been!

**CHARLOTTE**

Sorry, Luce. Bus was a bit late. (_sarcastically_) Hope I didn't keep you _waiting._

**LUCY**

(_just as sarcastically_) Oh, not at all! Only five minutes... ten... half an hour... several...

(_They both laugh_)

**CHARLOTTE**

We'd better go to class, yeah? We have science first up, right?

**LUCY**

Yeah, double. Two whole hours with boring Mr Brunner, raving about light fractals and quantum mechanics or whatever.


	14. The Sue Slayers: Multiverse

**Remember the Sue Slayers?**

**Well, it turns out I had a short story involving them stored on my hard drive. And it wasn't that bad, for something that was written by a 11-year-old me. So I thought I'd share it. **

**Don't kill me.**

* * *

Just a regular day at HQ. I relaxed in my tiny office, reading some maps on my laptop.

Oh yeah. I'm a member of the Sue Slayers. We're an intradimensional group that takes care of bad writing out on the net. Actually, that's just the name of the organization I work for; my real job is a fangirologist. That means that I track the patterns of different Fangirls. Fangirls- well, I guess they started out as humans at some point, but they've gradually evolved into what we might call slobbering, mindless, shrieking beasts.

Actually, that's how most of the fans at a football game act. I take it back.

They travel in disorganised groups, called Squees, and leave behind lip gloss, stuffed animals, and pink fluffy miscellaneous objects. And at the moment, there was a trail of Black and Gold colored fangirls, heading directly for a specific sector. I hit the intercom.

Alicia picked up. "Yes?"

Alicia is the commander of my division. She's sarcastic and annoying. Then again, so am I.

"We've got a medium, to, large Squee heading for one of the new fandoms," I said, checking the readouts. Every single book, movie, comic, etcetera, ever made produces a new universe.

"Black and Gold type," I quickly added.

"Kitty, that's not a registered type."

I frowned, poking the monitor with a pencil. "Well, it's there."

Alicia paused. _Great. A new type of Squee. _I thought. _On my day off, too._

"Kitty, take your team out to the portal room and track the Squee down. If there's a new type, we've got to know about it."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, and left, throwing my pencil at the intercom to turn it off.

* * *

I'd love to say that my little group was the A-Team. Honestly, I would. I actually lie about it at interstate parties and stuff. So does everyone else though.

My team was labeled "X15a". Admittedly, not the greatest name on earth. But I like to think we do well.

There was Liam, the techie. He stays back at HQ when we're out and about, and gives us information on, say, if a great big whopping Sue is heading our way.

Kat is a weapons expert. And she... um... loves guns. It's a bit weird for a teenage girl, but yeah.

Tania is good with strategy, and she works in the music department. Long story short, music helps us kill Sues. The rhythm, or something helps us kill. It's weird.

And Ruby. Well, she's a bit of a wild card. She can disguise extra well and is great with negotiations. She actually was offered a place in the A-Team, but she declined, so she could stay with us.

I love them all. But don't tell them that.

* * *

In the portal room, a random kid opened up a portal to near where the Squee was. Yep, that's right. Everyone at the Sue Slayers is a kid. Which makes it a bit like _Big Brother_. Hundreds of tweens to teens in a big house with some seriously advanced technology,

The transfer between portals is always weird. I've heard horror stories, like people turning up drowned in the Sahara Desert. I always thought it was weird, but there you are.

Thankfully, we didn't grow any extra appendages during the trip.

* * *

We arrived in a copse of small bushes, just on top of a hill. There was no sign of any life.

"All right, gear up," I ordered. We all strapped on a tranquiliser gun, a small Sue Shooter, and a holographic display that would bring information up. I screwed in my earpiece.

"Liam, are you there?"

"_I'm right next to you,_" he said. "_Unless you step into a Squee, in which case I'm way back in the command center._"

I sighed. "Alright, can you tell us what type of world this is?" The sound of keyboards carried along through the earpiece.

"_This is a normal fandom with no magic or anything. It's mainly teenage drama and highschool situations,_" he finally said.

"And the Squee?" Tania asked.

Kat gasped. We whirled around.

"What?" I asked.

There was no need to reply. A Type 3 Mary Sue stood in front of us. Ruby reacted first. She whipped out her gun, and began to send low bursts of Sue Serum towards her. Liam clicked on the music.

_I got the eye of the tiger, the fire,_

_Dancing through the fire,_

'_Cause I am the champion,_

_And you're gonna see me roar!_

"Not Katy Perry!" Kat yelled as she whipped out her own gun.

Man, that Sue was like an acrobat. She seemed to be evading all of our blasts. As well as being perfect in looks, they were always perfect in everything else.

"_Sorry,_" said Liam, but he didn't sound very sorry.

Tania and I pulled out our own guns, and set them on high. With a scream, the perfect girl spontaneously combusted.  
"Ew," I said. "Sue guts."

* * *

We trekked across to the nearby town where the main characters usually were.

"_Right,_" Liam broke in quickly. "_The Squee is right behind the library." _

"Thanks a lot for the detail," Tania muttered.

Just then, we heard a voice muttering from behind the library.

"Thanks a lot for the info," it said.

We all turned to Tania in surprise.

"Was that... you?" asked Ruby.

"Well, I didn't say it, but it sounded like me... didn't it?"

While the others debated, I had been listening to the Squee. Oddly enough, almost exactly the same conversation had been going on from them. Hmm... mimics?

I peeked around the corner, and shrieked. There was a fangirl in black and gold, doing the exact same thing.

"Fangirls!" we both screamed at the same time.

Immediately, everyone in my team drew our guns. The Squee stepped around the corner and revealed...

"_Stop!_" Liam yelled over the earpiece.

"What?" Kat said in annoyance. She had been in the corner, prepping her new Kill-O-Zap gun.

I lowered my gun. "It's... us."

"WHAT?" asked Tania.

It _was _us. Perfect down to the last detail, even my little pimple on my cheek.

Except...

Except we were in Black and Gold.

Liam sighed over the earpiece. It rattled loudly in our ears.

"_Alternate universes, remember? It means... that out there in the void, there's another Sue Slayers. There could even be hundreds of them._"

It looked like the other group was getting the same message. The other Kitty, however, looked bored. I walked over.

"Alternate universes, huh?" I asked, and she nodded.

"And we thought you guys were a Squee."

"You don't seem too surprised," I remarked.

Other-Kitty ran a hand through her hair. "After the Apollo fiasco, I can't be surprised too much anymore."

I caught a bit of that sentence. "Wait, Apollo? You mean the head techie?" Oooh, he was so handsome.

My alternate self eyed me carefully. Now that I looked at her, she seemed a bit older than me.  
"So," she finally said. "You mean you haven't been involved in the Canon Rebellion?"

I shrugged. "Nope."

The Other-Kitty grinned. "Ah, you have a lot to look forward to. Or not."

The Other Kat, Tania, and Ruby waved her over.  
"Oh, I'd better go. The B-Team awaits. And so does my boyfriend, back at base." My mirror image winked. "And yes, he is Apollo. Also, try to avoid this type of meeting again, okay? The universe can only survive so much cosmic irony."  
The Slayers from the alternate dimension walked into a portal and disappeared.

Something finally registered with me.

"Wait. B-Team?"

* * *

KITTY EDEN and the rest of TEAM X15a were promoted to X14b for working on the Black and Gold Squee case. KATHLEIN REILY is currently hunting down whoever sabotaged her Kill-O-Zap gun with a vengeance.

RUBY EVANS is now extremely confused about the theory of the multiverse and is looking for help in quantum physics.

LIAM MCFALLY succeeded in creating a machine that deflects signals from alternate Sue Slayers, to prevent the universe from collapsing into small blue pieces.

While running down the hallway with KATHLEIN REILEY's Kill-O-Zap gun, TANIA CORLEY slipped and crashed into KITTY EDEN. They are both currently in hospital.


	15. Where Could It Possibly Have Gone?

**Ah, hello again! Since the last All The Wrong Questions book was published today (and I haven't got it yet. :() and I also just realized that this thing will never be finished (double :() I decided to post this.**

**I had the idea, a while back, to write an alternate third book to the ATWQ series by Lemony Snicket. They're amazing books, by the way. I had a plot all planned out, and Seven and Ace were fitting in there just fine. I always planned to get around to finishing it. Maybe it will, but at the moment it looks highly unlikely.**

**So.**

**Here, for your viewing pleasure (sorta), is...**

**_Where Could It Possibly Have Gone?_**

* * *

_TO: LYND_

_FROM: LS_

_FILE UNDER: Stain'd-by-the-Sea, accounts of; strange visitors, strange disappearances, strange occurrences, strange umbrellas, strange things in general, cats_

_3/4_

_cc: VFDhq_

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

There was a town, and there was a man, and there was a blue box. I was living in the town,, and the man asked me to help solve a mystery involving the blue box. I agreed without thinking that it was connected to any of the other strange happenings in the town at the time. I was almost thirteen, and I was wrong. I was wrong about all of it. I should have asked the question "Who could have the motive for kidnapping a newcomer to the town?" Instead, I asked the wrong question- four wrong questions, more or less.

This is the account of the third.

* * *

It was dark and it was morning, a combination which either means that you are either up too early in the day or too late in the night. The streets of Stain'd-by-the-Sea were, for the most part, utterly deserted, which suited me fine. I needed time to walk and ponder without people looking concernedly at me and asking similarly concerned questions. I kicked at an empty tin can while I ran through my thoughts, attempting to keep them organized.

At the top of my list of problems was Ms Ellington Feint, a mystery wrapped in an enigma if I ever saw one. Which I frequently did, although not as often as I may have liked. Or maybe not. Maybe she was my arch-nemesis, albeit a rather friendly one. I turned the thought over in my head- _Ellington- friend or foe?- _for a few moments before moving right down the list to the matter of my sister. I did not care to spend much time on this, but occasionally you have to do unpleasant things. The thoughts I had about my sister were gloomy, to say the least. But when your sister has been caught by the police whilst attempting to do something illegal, your thoughts do slant towards the gloomy side.

The next item on my list was probably important, but was thrown to the side by a curious noise that was coming from Erythrosine Avenue. The stertorous sound- a word which here means wheezing and groaning- was practically calling my name for me to go investigate it. This most likely meant that it was dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances.

I began to walk briskly down the avenue, idly wondering what 'erythrosine' meant. I resolved to look it up later, and attempted to be quiet. Just in case some malicious foe was lurking in the shadows, just out of sight. This street was one of the most desolate that I had seen in this decrepit town. It looked as if no one had lived on it for a long time, and even if they had, they were the type of person that offers small children candy as bribery for climbing into the back of their car.

All the street lights were shattered and broken, possibly by Stew Mitchum and his ever-inaccurate slingshot. He seemed like the type of person that would be on this street.

The wheezing sound had stopped some minutes ago. And it was then that I noticed something rather strange.

Even though it was a fairly dark morning (as I have mentioned before) and all of the street lamps were probably victims of a delinquent boy with a steady supply of rocks, there was a faint light coming from the end of the avenue. I took several large steps towards the source of the light, which was spilling softly from the shadows.

"How strange," I said to myself, frowning a little. It was a large blue box, standing at roughly two-and-a-half meters tall. The lettering at the top said POLICE BOX and in between those two words were, in slightly smaller text, PUBLIC CALL. The letters were the source of the light, as they seemed to be glowing a clear, bright white. I ran my hands over the smooth wood. It hummed slightly beneath my hands.

"How strange," I repeated, mostly for effect, and tried the silver handle. It rattled a little, but didn't open. It looked as if it needed a key to fit into the lock. I dropped my hands, and stepped back.

The blue box was an anachronism- a word which here means something that looks entirely out of place in the setting. I had never seen anything like it before.

The sun was gradually rising behind me, and rays of sun tentatively crept down Erythrosine Avenue, touching my back. I turned around. It made no sense at all.

I knew exactly what I needed.

I needed to talk to some friends, and I needed something to eat. And I knew precisely where I could get both of those things.

* * *

The door of Hungry's jingled as I stepped in through the door. My first friend of the day barely glanced up, tap-tap-tapping away on her typewriter, fingers flitting rapidly over the keyboard. Her right arm was in bandages, and I winced slightly, knowing I was to blame for that fact.

"Hello, Snicket."

"What's the news, Moxie?" I asked, casually pulling up a chair to her table, and sitting down next to her. She frowned, and adjusted her hat. It was shaped like a lowercase _a, _and had a supply of business cards tucked into the brim, listing her name and occupation- _Moxie Mallahan, the News._

"Nothing, really. Just the usual." She stopped typing for a moment, and read back over her notes. "Prosper Lost's cat has gone missing."

Not much could surprise me this morning, but I raised a quizzical eyebrow all the same. "Prosper has a cat?"

"Well, it couldn't well have gone missing if he didn't have one."

Another jingle of the door signified the entry of my second friend- Cleo Knight, who smiled when she saw us, and quietly stole a chair from another empty table, which is something people do when they do not wish to sit alone.

"It could be a Schroedinger's Cat," she suggested, having heard the last half of our conversation. I somehow doubted that suggestion, but smiled and nodded at the contribution all the same.

The third friend who I had expected to be at Hungry's was currently behind the counter, taking orders and serving up food. His name was Jake Hix, and he was arguably the best chef that I had ever met. As I had once remarked, you could give Jake a bowl of cold porridge and some spices and he could make a soufflé out of it. We waved at him to take a seat, but he didn't. Instead, he reached into the freezer, and took out a large metal bowl that had cling film over the top of it. Balancing that on one arm, and piling several small bowls and dessert spoons into his other arm, he made his way over to our table.

"Ice cream?" he asked, which was not a wrong question at all, since the answer is always yes. He gave Cleo a quick kiss on the cheek, and served us all large portions of chocolate ice cream, heavily dusted with cocoa and with candied cherries inside. It made me feel much better about myself. As everyone knows, eating ice cream with friends on a cold morning is one of the best feelings in the world. It makes you feel all warm and tingly inside despite the fact that the food you are eating is frozen.

"I made it myself," he added, which made me feel even better. I almost forgot about my problems for a moment. And then I remembered the strange blue box, and an odd sort of frown flashed across my face. Moxie noticed.

"What is it, Snicket?" she asked with no small amount of curiosity, her fingers already hovering over her typewriter. She licked a stray smudge of chocolate off her upper lip. Jake sat down.

"Do any of you know anything about a blue police box that exists in this town?" I asked, using the old method of answering an interesting question with another question.

Cleo shook her head, and so did Jake. Moxie began to type, but then stopped.

"What _is _a police box?" she wondered, which was a very good question. I explained that it was tall, blue, and had the words POLICE BOX in clear lettering on the front, to which she nodded, and resumed typing.

"What's so odd about a police box being in Stain'd-by-the-Sea?" Jake asked.

"The police officers here are useless," I said shortly. "Can you honestly see them being clever enough to set up a box where people can call for help?"

He couldn't. My point was made.

"Who put it there, then?" Cleo asked.

That was not a wrong question. In fact, it was another good question, and like all good questions, I didn't know the answer to it. At least, not at this moment. I opened my mouth, and was about to answer with something to the effect of 'er' or 'um', which are the words people use when they want to stall for time. Fortunately, at that very moment, there was a loud shout of anger from outside.

We all glanced at each other, and without saying a word, stood up, pushed our chairs back and headed for the door.

"You get back here!" Jake's aunt yelled. She ran the diner that he worked in, and was, for the most part, exactly like the other adults in this town. Which is to say, utterly useless. "You are _not _leaving for no good reason!"

She had left a rather convenient loophole in her wording, which Jake immediately saw and exploited. "I'm not leaving for no good reason," he said.

"Glad to hear it."

"I have a perfectly sensible reason for leaving," he continued, before slipping quickly out the door before she could make any other objections. Cleo grinned at him, and skipped outside. Moxie had folded up her typewriter into its neat black case, and was carrying it carefully with her, just in case there was any sign of news.

We stepped into the street together, and noticed where the scream had come from at once. A girl, looking to be about 16, was struggling to get out of Mimi Mitchum's firm two-handed grip, and all the while yelling angry threats at him, mostly to the effect that if he didn't let her go, she'd do something very nasty and probably obscenely violent to him. Her brown hair whipped back and forth as she turned her head from side to side, looking for a way to break free.

I did not like Mimi in the least, and was secretly pleased with the way she stepped back as the girl fired another volley of insults at her. Her equally unlikable husband, Harvey, gripped the girl's other arm. "You're coming with us," he snarled at her. She deflated a bit.

"Yeah," she muttered. "S'pose I don't have a choice, do I?" She kicked at the ground. "Why is it always the police?"

By this point, we found it necessary to intervene, a word which here means 'interrupt or go between'. Moxie took the first initiative, dashing across the street with her typewriter still in hand, and intercepting the Officers Mitchum before they could drag the girl into their car. She put on her most polite expression.

"Excuse me," she said. "But why exactly are you arresting our friend?"

The girl in question was standing behind the officers (although still tightly gripped by the wrists) so they didn't see her eyebrows shoot up and an inquisitive expression appear on her face. I waved to get her attention.

_Friends? s_he mouthed. I nodded, and made the universal gesture for _just go along with it_, which is mouthing _just go along with it_. She shrugged, apparently meaning, _well, I have nothing to lose, _and turned back to whatever Moxie was planning.

"We're quite sure she hasn't done anything wrong," Moxie continued, fluttering her eyelashes for good effect. It's a well known fact that most adults will trust any girl that is looking cute and sucking up to them, and these adults were no exception.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, little girl," began Harvey Mitchum, adopting a ridiculously patronising tone. "but your _friend _here has committed a most atrocious act of crime."

"What's she done?" asked Cleo, sounding genuinely interested.

"Well," said Harvey, but was interrupted by his wife.

"I'll tell her, Harvey!" she snapped. "It was me who figured it out, after all!"

"You didn't figure it out, Mimi," retorted Harvey. "You just _helped._ I did all the figuring-out by myself!"

"Don't call me by my first name when we're on duty, Harvey!"

Moxie's eyes darted upwards for a second, nothing that could be actually considered an eye roll but close enough for all the smart people there to realise that she was getting exasperated, a word which means here 'irritated or annoyed'. The girl seemed to be irritated as well.

"If you're going to arrest me," she said in a tired sort-of tone. "then why don't you just get on with it?"

"Excellent idea," Mimi said, latching onto the thought.

"Don't agree with the fugitive, Mimi!" Harvey growled at her.

"What did she do?" Cleo repeated.

Finally working out that the adults there weren't any use at all, the girl sighed. "They think I stole something. I didn't."

"We'll be the judges of that!" Harvey said accusingly.

"I just came here with my other friend," she added, ignoring them. "We didn't think anything would be happening around here. I mean, it's just a town, right? But then we decided to look around, and I was having a quiet nose around here, and they accused me of stealing a cat."

"Not _just _a cat!" added Mimi. "All of the money that Prosper Lost owns!"

"And I've already _told _you," she tried to break away from them despite knowing full well that she couldn't. "I didn't steal anything of the sort! I may be a lot of things, but I'm _not a thief!_"

"We'll be the judges of that!" said Mimi triumphantly. Harvey turned to her.

"That's _my _line," he protested. "You aren't allowed to use it."

"You can't own words, Harvey."

The girl's head dropped to her chest. "Oh, god," she murmured. "I've been arrested by two idiots. Why me?"

I decided that I quite liked this girl, whoever she was. As I thought that, the officers threw open the car door, and pushed the girl inside. She gasped as she was thrown sharply against the none-too-elegant seating.

"I'm Ace," she hissed at us. "Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way."

"Pity it didn't work," Jake said morosely.

She smiled, and shrugged. "Worth a try, though."

Harvey slammed her door shut, and got in the driver's seat. He started the engine.

"Oh!" Ace said, winding down the window quickly. "If you see the Professor, tell him where I am. Thanks!"

"No talking to the fugitive!" Mimi barked, and the car sped away, leaving a cloud of foul-smelling smoke and fumes behind. We all coughed a bit, screwing up our noses to ward away the smell.

"That was extremely odd," Moxie commented. I agreed entirely.

"I wonder who the Professor is," Cleo said, which was something that I had been wondering about myself.

"Am I the only one who thinks that girl didn't steal the money and the cat?" Jake asked. He wasn't.

"Then who did?" I wondered. I then proceeded to ask, for the first time, the wrong question printed on the cover of this book. And no one had an answer for me.

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

Not wanting to go back to the Lost Arms, where S. Theodora Markson would no doubt chastise me for being out early without leaving so much as a note, I decided to go to Black Cat Coffee.

It was a curious place. I had no idea who had built it, or who operated and maintained it, or even the name of the peculiar tune that tinkled out of the player piano in the corner. All I knew was that the bread made by the machine was perhaps even better than anything Jake Hix could make.

The light inside the building was on, casting a warm yellow glow over the counter and the three boldly marked buttons on the machine. The light meant that someone was inside, maybe enjoying a cup of coffee. I could not relate. I do not drink coffee.

The man inside the shop, perched on the counter, drinking a teacup of something that I couldn't quite see, was rather short. He had a straw Panama hat and a white suit on, looking perfectly at ease. A black umbrella with a red question-mark-shaped handle was lying beside him. There was someone else, too, who he was talking to. I could see their shoes, black with gold buckles and looking decidedly feminine. He smiled thinly at the other person, and said something.

I moved down the street so that I could see into the window properly, and stopped in my tracks. The person the strange man was talking to was a young girl, about my age, more or less. Her long black hair was tied back in an elegant ponytail, and I knew for a fact that it had been dyed blonde less than a month ago. Her bright green eyes were framed by her eyebrows, curving like question marks.

She smiled back at the man, and told him something that I couldn't hear, being on the other side of the window.

It was a smile that could have meant anything.

I wasn't entirely sure what to do. The last time I had encountered this girl, she had taken the statue of the Bombinating Beast to who knows where, as well as escaped police custody. If I were to turn her into the police right now, they would gladly lock her away in a cell.

I suppose I might have considered her a friend, at another time, if she hadn't attempted to betray me. Or maybe she didn't. It was all rather complicated.

Throwing these thoughts away, I did the sensible thing, and walked into Black Cat Coffee as if I owned the place. The man looked up from his cup of tea, which was rather impossible, since I had been trying for the past few weeks to get the machinery in the building to produce something other than coffee. The other girl set aside her cup of coffee.

"Lemony Snicket," she said.

I stared at her. "Ellington Feint."

The man looked curiously at her. "You know him?"

She nodded. "You could say that."

"And who might you be?" I asked him.

"I'm the Doctor, Mister Snicket," he said. He spoke with a very particular Scottish accent, rolling his _R_s very thoroughly, even when there weren't any.

Calling yourself something as vague as 'the Doctor' does not give any information to people listening to you, which I very much suspect was his angle. I did not probe further, or ask questions like, _Doctor who? _I nodded as if that explained everything, and then looked at Ellington.

I don't think either of us knew quite what to say. What do you talk about to a person who, so very recently, broke out from a police station?

"Have you found your father yet?" I asked after a pregnant pause. It was the wrong thing to say. Her face twisted ever-so-slightly.

"Not yet," she said shortly. "I will, though. Eventually."

The Doctor was watching us with something like idle interest. "I've been talking to Ms Feint," he said. "There have been quite a lot of strange happenings in this town recently, haven't there?"

"There have," I admitted. "Including seemingly random thievery, and mysterious boxes appearing out of the blue. Do you know anything about this, Mr Doctor?"

He seemed unconcerned. "Just Doctor. The thievery... no, I couldn't say I know anything about that. I'm against anything of the sort." His eyes twinkled with a bit of amusement, a private joke. "Well, almost. Only when I need to. But the blue box, yes, that's mine."

"What could you possibly need with a blue box?" Ellington wondered.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what I can do with practically anything. For example..." He produced two large spoons from seemingly nowhere, transferred them to one hand, and began clicking them together with great speed and dexterity, producing a rhythm. This is what is known as 'playing the spoons', and I can safely say I have never heard anything quite like it before.

He paused in his playing, held up his hands, and the spoons were gone. They had vanished, and there was no sign that they had even been there.

"This is not a good town for anyone to be in," I said, ignoring the magic trick.

"You're in it," he pointed out.

"I'm an unusual person."

He looked at me oddly. "Are you... threatening me?" He broke out into a broad grin. "How marvellous! I make it a point to get threatened wherever I go! It's somewhat of a hobby, you see."

Ellington gave me a look that said, in essence, _can you believe him?_

The simple answer to that was that yes, I could.

"I'm not threatening you," I said. "There's a lot going on here, and I am meant to be the one stopping it."

"You're turning down help?"

I didn't want to turn down help. But I just nodded. "I don't want anyone getting hurt." _Like my sister._

He stared at me. His eyes were impossibly old, and sad somehow. "Well, if you insist. I need to find my friend, first. Have you seen her? She's seventeen, has brown hair, and is an expert in calorification, incineration, carbonization, and inflammation."

All of these words meant 'setting things on fire' and I suddenly saw the girl that we had met earlier in an entirely new, and slightly dangerous light. A thought occurred to me.

"Are you known as the Professor?" I asked.

"Ah, so you did meet her, then!" he exclaimed. "Where did she go?"

Ellington had been awfully quiet all through this exchange. I glanced quickly in her direction. She was watching as if the two of us were particularly interesting books that she was reading at once.

"She was arrested," I said, entirely truthfully.

For some reason, he didn't look entirely surprised, only a bit annoyed. "Really? I suppose that makes it some type of record for her."

"Does this happen often, then?" Ellington wondered, taking a sip of coffee.

"You have no idea," said the Doctor, offering a bit of a grim smile. "She seems to make a bit of a point of being kidnapped or arrested wherever we go."

I couldn't imagine why anyone would try to do this, but I nodded and smiled back all the same.

"Well," said the Doctor, getting up. "I had best go and bail her out, then." He picked up his umbrella, and twirled it about his arm. "Would either of you be so kind as to show me the way to the police station?"

I glanced at Ellington, who shrugged and quirked her eyebrows at me. I sighed. "I'd be pleased to do it," I said, which meant I was reluctant to, but felt obligated out of politeness.

"I'll see you around, then," Ellington said, giving me another of her strange smiles. The Doctor and I walked out the door of Black Cat Coffee. The player piano was still tinkling its endless tune, but it was stranger; more sad. I saw Ellington taking one last sip of coffee before pressing the A button.

A.

Attic.

Before I could process that, the Doctor had taken me by the arm, and was steering me towards the street. "This is rather pleasant," he said cheerfully, rolling the _r _in 'rather' thoroughly, as if the word was a particularly delicious pastry, perhaps one made by Jake Hix.

Stain'd-by-the-Sea was, as always, almost completely deserted. An abandoned tin can clattered across the street, and towards us. I stepped over it neatly and we continued on.

"The police station is this way," I explained needlessly, a word which here means 'not needing to be explained'.The Doctor nodded politely, which is a way of saying 'I know this, you know this, now let's get on with it'.

It was a ten minute walk to the station. We didn't talk to each other- not even to trade the titles of our favorite books, which is a pastime I rather enjoy. Instead, I stared determinedly in front of myself, and led the way with a confidence that I didn't have. I did not like the police station. I did not trust the police. In fact, there was a very short list of people I trusted in this gloomy, downtrodden town. The list in question, had I bothered to write it down, would have been just long enough to fold into a very small paper crane. And not a very good one, either.

The doors to the police station were wide open, which, in any other place, would usually signify that the building was a friendly and open place. This was not the case. It was more likely that it signified that the two officers had simply forgotten to lock the doors.

The Doctor walked past me and strolled confidently through the door. I hesitated outside for a moment, considering my options. I could- quite possibly- walk back to Black Cat Coffee, and be in time to catch and question Ellington. Though about what, I couldn't quite say. On the other hand, I could go and watch two police officers be verbally taken down by what looked to be quite the clever man and his equally witty companion.

There was no contest.

I entered the police station.

Inside, Mimi and Harvey Mitchum were trying their absolute best to look professional when caught unguarded, and failing miserably. My new friend smiled in a polite fashion, and doffed his hat at them.

"Good morning," he said. "I'm the Doctor, and this is my friend..." He glanced behind himself to check that I was still there. "...Mr Snicket. I believe you have another friend of mine locked up here?"

He scanned the small room, and I couldn't help copying him, I had never been in this station before- though not for lack of trying on the officers' behalf. I couldn't see why they'd want to spend any time at all in here, though- it was an absolute mess. I'm not a tidy person by nature, but the pure, abject disorderliness of this place was enough to give even me a headache.

"Oh," said Harvey. "It's you again."

The Doctor frowned. "'Me again'?"

"You were the bloke that was in here earlier!" exclaimed Mimi, raising a finger in the air. She probably thought it made her look intellectual and brilliant. It didn't. She looked like an idiot. "You came to get that girl we arrested a couple of minutes ago."

The little man's frown deepened. "I did?"

"He did?" I said blankly- there was no way that he could have gone to the coffee shop directly after the police station, and besides, his expression was one of complete puzzlement.

* * *

**Aaaand... that's it. :( A bit of a shame, really, because this sounded quite cool.**


	16. Digging Up The Past

**Hello again! I was going through my scripts on my script editing software, and I found this little unfinished beauty. It's set in the Ginger Chronicles continuity (if you know me well, you'll know how much I love that fanfilm) and features Bernice Summerfield (again, if you know me...).**

**It's untitled. Sort of. Well, I called it 'Digging Up the Past' but that's so cliched and horrible that I'm never going to use it.**

**Also, note my unbridled love for archaeology stories set in Egypt! *hides my other two Benny fics behind my back* **

**There's multiple continuity references to expanded universe Doctor Who and Big Finish, including but not limited to:**

**\- Vortisaur**

**\- Erimem**

**\- That One Incident Where Benny Shagged The Doctor Before It Was Cool**

**\- Time Rings**

**The Ginger Doctor belongs to Steven Hancock and Lilly Nelson.**

**On with the story!**

* * *

_**FADE IN:**_

_**EXT. DIG SITE- MIDDAY**_

It's a busy, bustling site with lots of college undergraduates trooping around, looking at artifacts. A table sits underneath the shade of a tent, covered with technology. A fairly attractive woman with cropped black hair sits at a chair, typing furiously. It's BERNICE SUMMERFIELD (40s) who prefers to be known as Benny to her friends. She appears to be completely engrossed in her work. A student- CHRIZ comes up behind her, and taps her on the shoulder. She jumps and yelps.

**BERNICE**

Don't do that! What is it? I'm kinda busy here.

**CHRIZ**

We've found something.

**BERNICE**

You could be a bit more specific. What sort of 'something'? An interesting something? A bottle of gin? Actually, I could do with a bottle of gin right now, so...

Chriz smiles patiently.

**CHRIZ**

No, it's... well, it's not really related to the Egyptians, it's more... strange than anything. You'd better come and see.

He leads her over to a trench that they've been digging out.

**BERNICE**

Explain the 'something'.

She makes quotation marks in the air.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

Is it animal, vegetable, mineral? Bigger than a breadbox? Come on, give me some help here. I was never any good at Twenty Questions

**CHRIZ**

It's a blue box.

Benny stops dead.

**BERNICE**

What?

**CHRIZ**

Yeah, it's pretty weird. None of us have been able to figure it out either. We thought that you might know something. With all your 'otherworldly expertise' and all that.

**BERNICE**

No, not that. Did you just say 'blue box'?

Close in on her half-incredulous, half-shocked expression.

_**FADE TO OPENING CREDITS**_

* * *

_**INT. TARDIS CONSOLE ROOM - BRIGHT**_

The DOCTOR, JIM and LIZ trip into the console room, laughing desperately.

**LIZ**

What even was that?

**DOCTOR**

Big, angry, and wanted to eat our heads off, apparently. Nasty fellow. Good thing we took care of it.

**JIM**

Yeah, good thing Liz always keeps a hammer in her- ow! What was that for?

Liz just hit him. She grins sweetly.

**LIZ**

We're not mentioning that ever again. Capiche?

**JIM**

Yeah, yeah, fine, whatever... where to now, Doctor?

She jumps for the consoles, and begins twiddling dials expertly.

**DOCTOR**

I rather think that it's Liz's turn to choose! So, where is it to be, Miss Elizabeth Baker? Breakfast in the middle ages? Pancakes on the moon? Possibly doughnuts on Saturn? All those lovely rings-

**LIZ**

Hang on. Why are all your suggestions centered around eating?

The Doctor looks vaguely guilty.

**DOCTOR**

I skipped lunchtime, and I'm hungry. Hurry up and choose before I decide that I'm against chowing down on sentient beings and eat you instead.

**JIM**

I really hope you're joking.

Fortunately, the Doctor's saved from a response by a red light blinking on the console, and a loud, irritating beeping noise. She turns eagerly.

**DOCTOR**

Aha! A distraction from my hunger! Now, I wonder what that could possibly be?

She checks the scanner, and visibly perks up.

**DOCTOR (CONT'D)**

Ooh. Now there's a name I haven't seen for a while. Hold on tight, boys and girls, we're heading off to a desert!

Liz crosses her arms, and exudes a general aura of being annoyed.

**LIZ**

What happened to me choosing?

**DOCTOR**

Temporarily postponed. Hold onto something- here we go!

She pulls down a level, and the TARDIS vworps into action. It shakes a bit, and all of the occupants are thrown against the sides.

**LIZ**

Whoa!

**JIM**

I've been meaning to ask- who gave you your driver's lessons?

**DOCTOR**

I didn't- uh, I didn't have any.

**JIM**

That actually explains a lot.

The TARDIS shudders to a stop. The Doctor checks the readout.

**DOCTOR**

I have absolutely no idea what you mean. We're in what you'd call Egypt, 28th century. Ready to meet one of my greatest ever friends?

Jim and Liz look at each other and shrug.

**LIZ**

Just as long as it's not a ruddy great pterodactyl again.

**DOCTOR**

That wasn't that bad, was it?

**JIM**

Doctor, I had to get stitches all along my arm from that laceration! Of course it was that bad!

**DOCTOR**

Oh, that was all in the past. Live in the present a bit, Jim! Come on!

With that, she sweeps out of the TARDIS, tripping a bit on the way out. Jim and Liz follow.

**LIZ**

...it was literally two days ago...

_**FADE TO:**_

* * *

_**EXT. DIG SITE - MID-AFTERNOON**_

Students stare at the Doctor and her friends incredulously as they mosey along, barely even noticing the other people at the site.

**DOCTOR**

I left a friend of mine a homing device in case she needed me when we parted ways last.

**JIM**

And she activated it?

**DOCTOR**

Uh huh.

**LIZ**

[GESTURING] What could possibly go wrong on an archaeology site?

**DOCTOR**

Oh, you'd be surprised...

They get to the table where Bernice and Chriz had been just before, and the Doctor eagerly swings around to look at all of the shiny artifacts. Liz picks up a coin to examine it.

**LIZ**

Hey, this is actually pretty cool. Where's it from? It's not from any time period I've studied.

The Doctor leans over.

**DOCTOR**

No, it wouldn't be. About a century after your time. You've studied history?

**LIZ**

Yeah, a bit. It was one of my hobbies back in high school.

**DOCTOR**

Tell me, then. What time period is this one from?

She picks up a dirty-looking silver coin from the pile. Liz inspects it.

**LIZ**

From the state of it... 18th century French? It fell into a moist place at some point, or it just wasn't very well looked after- there's a lot of rust over it.

Jim checks a clipboard of notes on the side.

**JIM**

She's right.

The Doctor shakes her head and grins.

**DOCTOR**

I don't often tell you how amazing you are, do I?

**LIZ**

Well... thanks.

She smiles, a bit astounded by this.

**BERNICE (O.S.)**

Oi! What are you doing? That's my desk! If you mess it up, I will be so mad that you won't believe it-

The Doctor looks up in absolute delight.

**DOCTOR**

BENNY!

She hurtles into an extremely startled Bernice with a massive, crushing hug, beaming like a madwoman.

**BERNICE**

...not that I object to hugs, but... er... who exactly are you?

**DOCTOR**

Oh, come on! You must recognize me! [PULLS BACK] Manipulative old git, remember? Admittedly, I have changed quite a bit... there's the whole 'ginger' thing to get over, but...

**BERNICE**

Wait a moment. You're the Doctor?!

**DOCTOR**

Yep! Newly regenerated and ready for a challenge!

She twirls on the spot dramatically, then beckons Jim and Liz over.

**DOCTOR (CONT'D)**

Jim, Liz, I'm very happy to introduce you to one of my very best friends in the universe, and that's not even the slightest exaggeration. This is Professor Bernice Summerfield- Benny to her friends-archaeologist and adventuress extraordinaire. Also the author of several bestselling books... how's that latest one coming on?

**BERNICE**

I'm working on it. [PAUSE] But isn't the Doctor... I mean, aren't you... well.

**DOCTOR**

A bloke?

**BERNICE**

Yeah.

**DOCTOR**

I regenerated.

**BERNICE**

Can your lot even do that?

**DOCTOR**

Apparently so. And like I said- ready for a challenge! You called me. What seems to be the problem?

Bernice frowns.

**BERNICE**

But... I didn't call you.

She's interrupted by Chriz, who dashes up to her, out of breath.

**CHRIZ**

Professor Summerfield! You'll never believe what we just found next to the canteen tent!

**BERNICE**

I have no doubt that you'll tell me anyway, even if I do believe it. Go on.

**CHRIZ**

It's another one of those blue box thingies! You called it... a Tarr-diz, right? It's the exact same one! But the one we dug up is a lot more old!

**LIZ**

You found another TARDIS?

**BERNICE**

And the plot thickens.

**JIM**

Could it be another one? You said that your people used them as transport or something. There must be a lot of them floating about the universe.

**DOCTOR**

Yes, there are. But only one that I know of is in the shape of a blue 1960s police box.

**BERNICE**

That would be yours. You still haven't fixed it?

**DOCTOR**

It's not broken! Why does everyone automatically assume that? I like it how it is.

Chriz is standing there, looking kind of lost.

**CHRIZ**

Who are these people, Professor?

**BERNICE**

Friends. I hope. Run along now, we've got stuff to talk about.

Chriz leaves, throwing uncertain glances back as he does. Bernice turns to look at the Doctor.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

You got a message from me?

**DOCTOR**

Er, yes. Now that I think about it, it's entirely possible that I misinterpreted the date and missed your signal by a couple of days. In which case, you'll be sending out a distress call in a couple of days, which really doesn't bode well, does it?

**LIZ**

Why does this sort of thing always happen whenever you turn up anywhere, Doctor?

_**FADE TO:**_

* * *

_**EXT. DESERT - A BIT LATER**_

The Doctor and Bernice are walking towards a dug-up area of the site together. The Doctor turns and calls over her shoulder.

**DOCTOR**

You two stay here and poke around. Oh, and try not to get anyone who looks important mad, alright?

**JIM (O.C.)**

[HEAVILY SARCASTIC] Got it, Mum!

**DOCTOR**

[UNDER HER BREATH] Kids.

**BERNICE**

Sure are crazy, aren't they?

They grin at each other.

**DOCTOR**

Where's this second TARDIS of yours, then?

**BERNICE**

Over here. The students found it this morning and neglected to tell me until they had sufficiently argued out all the possibilities of what it could possibly be.

They scramble up a small slope, and find the TARDIS's light, half buried. The Doctor brushes off some sand, revealing the words 'Police Public Call Box'.

**DOCTOR**

Must have been a sandstorm or something. Hello, old girl! It's been a while, hasn't it? For you, at least...

Bernice affectionately pats the top.

**BERNICE**

You've probably been getting her into all sorts of trouble without me, haven't you?

The light on top flashes dimly.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

You know the question that begs to be asked, of course.

**DOCTOR**

Indeed. How did she get here? And why was she abandoned for all that time? [PAUSE] In typical me fashion, the answer is probably a couple of hundred years back, when this version of the TARDIS was still buried.

**BERNICE**

So, all we have to go is go back to find out, and we can stop it from happening.

**DOCTOR**

But in doing that, we might set off the same series of events we're trying to prevent.

**BERNICE**

Even after all this time, paradoxes still give me a headache. Thanks a lot.

They both stand up, leaving the half-buried box behind, and begin to walk back to the camp together.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

Knowing you, though, you're probably going to go back in time anyway, just for the hell of it.

**DOCTOR**

Actually, no. I'm not going to risk it. I'm not losing the TARDIS because of a stupid paradox. The timelines can sort themselves out.

**BERNICE**

Well, you've certainly changed. Remember the last you I met?

The Doctor instantly looks embarrassed, and she quickly looks away, coughing.

**DOCTOR**

Yes. Well...

Benny smiles cheekily.

**BERNICE**

I still can't believe it's you.

There's a loud roar in the distance. Both of them stop dead, and glance at each other.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

Okay, now I can.

Another roar echoes across the desert, closer this time.

**DOCTOR**

Are there any native animals in this part of the world that can roar that loudly?

**BERNICE**

Unless there's some really loud camels around, no. Do you think we can run for it?

Another roar, and it's practically right next to them now. In fact...

* * *

_**MONSTER'S P.O.V.**_

The Doctor and Benny are staring right at it, as it roars again and lurches forwards. They dive in opposite directions, as the monster lands.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

What the hell is that?!

**DOCTOR**

If I knew, I'd do something about it!

The monster leaps at Benny, and she screams and ducks underneath it. The monster shakes itself off, and spins around.

**DOCTOR (CONT'D)**

Benny! Have you got your Time Ring with you?

**BERNICE**

Why would I bring my Time Ring to a dig in the middle of Egypt!

The monster pounces at them again, and they run.

**DOCTOR**

Answer the question!

**BERNICE**

Yes, I've got it!

She digs in her pocket.

**DOCTOR**

Then for the love of Rassilon, get us out of here!

There's a rush of sound, and they disappear into thin air. The monster rocks back and forth, looking for its prey. When it can't find them, it throws its head back and howls mournfully into the night.

_**FADE TO:**_

* * *

_**EXT. DIG SITE- NIGHT**_

The howl from the previous scene echoes through the air, as Jim and Liz are poring over documents and items. They both look up, then at each other.

**JIM**

Ten dollars says that the Doctor was involved with that somehow.

**LIZ**

Done. There's no possible way she could have got into trouble within ten minutes. [PAUSE] But throw in a breakfast in bed there too.

**JIM**

Fine. Betting on the Doctor's getting to be an expensive hobby.

**LIZ**

Found anything interesting?

**JIM**

Only the confirmation of Illuminati from a few years back. Nothing relevant. What about you?

Liz flips a page over on her clipboard.

**LIZ**

Not a sausage. Looks like we're resigned to being bored all night then, since the Doctor's not here.

**JIM**

I wonder if the students'll let us borrow a tent or something?

**LIZ**

Well, I'll ask nicely.

They begin to pack up everything that they've scattered over the desk since they've started, and a photo appears out of nowhere when their backs are turned. Liz turns, and notices it.

**LIZ (CONT'D)**

That's weird. I didn't look at this.

She picks it up, and her eyes widen.

**LIZ (CONT'D)**

Holy-

**JIM**

What is it?

He steps closer to look.

**JIM (CONT'D)**

My god.

**LIZ**

What are you thinking?

**JIM**

I'm thinking you owe me ten bucks.

_**CUT TO:**_

* * *

_**INT. ANCIENT TOMB- DARK**_

The Time Ring's noise fizzles through the air, and the Doctor and Bernice appear and land on their rear ends. They wince and groan.

**DOCTOR**

Oww. That really, really- wait, where did you take us?

**BERNICE**

No idea. I sort of panicked. People tend to do that when face with a ten foot- well, whatever it was.

**DOCTOR**

Can you take us back to the camp?

**BERNICE**

Sure. Give me a sec-

She closes her eyes, concentrating. The Time Ring on her finger fizzles briefly.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

It's gone kaput, I think.

**DOCTOR**

Well, what's the use of a Time Ring if it hardly ever works?

**BERNICE**

It got us here, didn't it? [PAUSE] I can't see a thing, which is really irritating. Got a torch?

**DOCTOR**

Wait a sec. I think I've got a- ah, here we are.

She throws a small silver ball into the air, which immediately hangs there and lights up the entire room, revealing that they're in a tomb. An Egyptian tomb, to be precise.

**BERNICE**

Much better. Thanks.

**DOCTOR**

Lovely place. They could use an interior decorator, though, it needs wallpaper. Maybe a potted plant or two.

**BERNICE**

These carvings are fascinating, though.

She moves over to the walls, and runs a finger lightly over the rows of hieroglyphs.

**DOCTOR**

It looks like an advertisement for Ancient Egyptian toothpaste.

**BERNICE**

Oi. Go ahead and ruin my moment of discovery, why don't you?

She takes a closer look, and frowns.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

It's funny, though. These look exactly like the ones that we just found at the dig site. And I do mean exactly. They're perfect replicas, down to the last detail.

**DOCTOR**

Benny?

**BERNICE**

Uh huh?

**DOCTOR**

Time travel, remember?

The penny drops.

**BERNICE**

You're kidding me. We're in the exact same place where you decided that you absolutely were not going to go to?

**DOCTOR**

That seems to be about the shape of it, yes.

**BERNICE**

But... there's no TARDIS!

**DOCTOR**

No.

**BERNICE**

Are you being deliberately cryptic, or do you genuinely have no idea what's going on?

The Doctor gives her a deliberately cryptic smile, and saunters off in a mysterious way to the side of the cave. She pulls out her sonic screwdriver, and presses it to the wall.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

What are you doing?

**DOCTOR**

Sending a message.

She moves the sonic in broad strokes across the wall. As it passes, words form.

**BERNICE**

This is a historical site, Doctor! You're defacing an important archaeological find!

**DOCTOR**

It's not historical right now. If I carve words into the sandstone, it'll be just like it was always there. Which means... I can send a message.

_**CUT TO:**_

* * *

_**EXT. DIG SITE- NIGHT**_

Liz is holding a photograph of the very spot where the Doctor and Bernice were.

**JIM**

It says... um. 'Trapped in the past, no TARDIS, send help, smiley face, smiley face, hugs and kisses, hugs and kisses, lots of love, Doctor'.

_**CUT TO:**_

* * *

_**INT. ANCIENT TOMB- BRIGHT**_

The Doctor finishes carving her message, and straightens up, tucking the sonic in her pocket. Bernice is staring at her, scandalized.

**BERNICE**

I can not believe you just did that.

**DOCTOR**

We're stuck in the past, and there's no way of getting back unless one of them brings the TARDIS to us.

**BERNICE**

Fair enough. [PAUSE] Have you actually shown either of them how to fly the TARDIS?

The Doctor's face falls.

**DOCTOR**

Oh. Uh.

**BERNICE**

I'm going to assume that's a no.

**DOCTOR**

It is.

**BERNICE**

So basically, we're screwed.

The Doctor smiles.

**DOCTOR**

I wouldn't say that. All of my friends are extremely resourceful, as you very well know. And since we're here, in the middle of history, why don't we have a poke around?

**BERNICE**

Do you promise not to defile any more possibly precious and irreplaceable artifacts along the way?

**DOCTOR**

I make no guarantees.

**BERNICE**

You're impossible, you know that?

The Doctor holds out her arm for Bernice to take.

**DOCTOR**

Care to poke out noses into precisely where they shouldn't go, Professor Summerfield?

**BERNICE**

I'd be delighted, Doctor Smith.

She links arms with the Doctor, and the two of them begin down the hallway. The light ball that the Doctor put up earlier follows them as they go.

_**FADE TO:**_

* * *

_**EXT. DIG SITE- NIGHT**_

Liz and Jim are now sitting on the sand, papers and items spread out in a haphazard semicircle around them.

**LIZ**

I don't know how she expects us to help her when a), she's never shown us how to pilot the TARDIS in the first place and b), we don't know what kind of trouble she's in.

**JIM**

Ooh. Here's something... maybe?

**LIZ**

Yeah?

Jim looks up hopefully.

**JIM**

Does a violent-looking Egyptian princess engraved into the hieroglyphs count?

**LIZ**

Is she ginger?

**JIM**

She's bald and probably wearing a wig.

**LIZ**

Then no.

Another howl echoes through the camp. Chriz strolls over.

**CHRIZ**

Hey, did you hear that?

**JIM**

Yeah. Any idea what it is?

**CHRIZ**

Probably Ammit the Devourer coming to eat our souls, or possibly hearts. It's difficult to tell with these ancient Egyptian god types.

**LIZ**

Is that actually likely?

**CHRIZ**

With Professor Summerfield on the site... who knows?

**JIM**

Well, it's probably just a bear or something. Nothing to worry about.

**LIZ**

A bear. In the desert.

**CHRIZ**

It could happen.

**LIZ**

In a Monty Python charity skit, maybe. This is the real world.

Another howl, and this time a second monster's voice joins the first. Everyone glances into the darkness.

**JIM**

Two bears?

**LIZ**

Maybe if we ignore them, they'll go away?

**CHRIZ**

Good luck with that. I'm going to go find somewhere suitable to hide, just in case whatever-they-are decide to attack us.

He wanders off, and Jim and Liz get back to work, albeit in a slightly more tense manner than before.

**LIZ**

Here's another photo that wasn't there before.

She picks it up, and Jim scoots over to sit next to her.

**JIM**

'To the two smartest people I know- The monsters aren't a threat. They just want you to think they are. Love, Doctor. Hugs and kisses.' Well, what's that supposed to mean?

_**CUT TO:**_

* * *

_**INT. ANCIENT TOMB HALLWAY**_

The Doctor and Bernice walk down the hallway.

**BERNICE**

Are we looking for anything in particular?

**DOCTOR**

Strange things, mainly. Do you see anything out of place? Any Daleks in the wall art, Cybermen lurking in the shadows?

**BERNICE**

If I do, I'll make sure to scream loudly to alert you to their presence.

They turn a corner, and there's a roar from behind them.

**DOCTOR**

Is it just my imagination, or am I hearing a terror from beyond the realms of nightmares roaring at us?

**BERNICE**

I think we should run for it.

**DOCTOR**

Excellent suggestion, let's go.

They both start jogging down the corridor, and enter a side room. Which promptly slams shut behind them.

**BERNICE**

On the plus side, at least it can't get to us now.

**DOCTOR**

Unfortunately, we're now locked in a grimy antechamber, with no way out apart from that door. So do you know what I'm going to do?

**BERNICE**

What?

**DOCTOR**

I'm going to open that door and let it in.

The Doctor whips out her screwdriver again, and points it at the door. It begins to grind open.

**BERNICE**

ARE YOU INSANE?

**DOCTOR**

Occasionally. Do you think I'm having a fit of madness right now? Because I don't feel mad. I have a hunch.

The door opens fully. There's a howl from outside, and Benny backs against the wall. Into the room bounds... a black dog, a big larger than normal but apart from that, completely average. It howls again, the sound too large to actually come from a dog that size, and nuzzles up to the Doctor, who's scratching it behind the ears.

**DOCTOR (CONT'D)**

Who's a good boy, then? You are. Yes, you are. A good boy that's been scaring Benny and I witless, but even so...

Bernice comes over cautiously.

**BERNICE**

It was much bigger. Back in the desert, I mean.

**DOCTOR**

Hmm, yeah. Come and pet him, he won't bite.

**BERNICE**

You sure?

**DOCTOR**

As I'll ever be. He's just a big woobie, aren't you?

The dog whines happily, and Benny gives in, coming over to give him a scratch on the tummy.

**BERNICE**

Aw. You're right. He is a sweetie. What's his name?

**DOCTOR**

...you expect him to have a dog collar and nametag? In Ancient Egypt?

**BERNICE**

Good point. In that case... let's call him Amal.

**DOCTOR**

Egyptian for 'hope'.

**BERNICE**

Exactly.

**DOCTOR**

Good choice. Now, back in your time, there's several of these critters running around scaring the heck out of people. But what they don't know is that they're all pretentious big cuties that love having their tummies rubbed.

**BERNICE**

So what do we do?

The Doctor pulls out her sonic, and heads over to a wall.

**BERNICE (CONT'D)**

Oh no. Not again!

_**FADE TO:**_

_**EXT. DESERT- NIGHT**_

Liz walks into view from behind a sand dune, followed by Jim, who's carrying the file of papers, and flipping through it.

**LIZ**

The Doctor and Benny were somewhere around here, weren't they?

**JIM**

Probably. I wasn't paying attention. But there's the TARDIS.

They move over the rise towards where they can just see the light on top of the box- flashing to guide them.

* * *

**It did look quite good, didn't it? :3**


	17. The Doctor Attempts to Save Gallifrey

**How the Doctor Rather Cleverly and Elegantly Saved Gallifrey and The Rest Of The Universe (with a little help from her friends)**

**Featuring the Nelson!Doctor and cast of Gallifrey, Bernice Summerfield, and Iris Wildthyme**

* * *

It was possibly the worst idea that Romana had got into her head so far, but the message _had _asked for all four of them.

"What could possibly go wrong?" she had asked, which had caused Narvin to promptly find the nearest wall and begin to bang his head against it, muttering something about 'tempting fate'. But she was President and her word was more-or-less law. And so it was that Romana, Leela, Narvin and Braxiatel took a TARDIS to a small, out-of-the-way café on the banks of the Thames in 1987, each one knowing full well that they'd probably regret doing it later. K-9 had tagged along too, for moral support.

As they approached the café, Narvin tugging irritably at the unfamiliar 'casual' clothes, Leela carefully kept a lookout for any sign that something was wrong. There wasn't, not even a little bit, which made her even more edgy. Romana had a small worried frown, and kept biting at her upper lip, and Braxiatel looked unruffled, as always.

They entered through the front doors, even though it was probably another bad idea, and hovered awkwardly around the front counter.

"Orders?" said the bored-looking waitress, snuffing out her cigarette under the tabletop and picking up a clipboard. She twirled a pen threateningly towards them.

"Er," said Romana, and became aware that a ginger woman was waving excitedly at them from across the shop, mouthing something along the lines of 'over here!' Leela sent the woman a suspicious look, and Narvin stared at the ceiling, no doubt imagining he was anywhere but where he was right then.

K-9 beeped and whirred at her heels. "Mistress?"

"Shut up, K-9," Romana hissed, annoyed, as the waitress leaned over the counter to look at the metal dog. Her forehead puckered in puzzlement, and K-9 tilted his head up to face her.

"What's that, then?" she asked, reaching down to poke him. "Some sort of remote-controlled doodad?"

Romana hurriedly kicked K-9 backwards in the direction of Braxiatel. "Something like that."

In the background, the woman was now gesturing frantically at them and making pouty faces in their direction. The waitress noticed. "She a friend of yours, then?"

Braxiatel raised an eyebrow. "Funnily enough, no. We've never met her before in our lives."

Leela was edging towards her pocket, where her knife indubitably was. Narvin grabbed her arm, and scowled deeply.

The woman threw her hands up in the air in frustration, and yelled, "Romana! For Rassillon's sake, just _get over here!_"

Romana froze, and opened her mouth to say something, but realized she couldn't think of anything to say. Braxiatel nudged her arm. "Well, then."

"Looks like _she _knows _you,_" added the waitress rather unnecessarily. Romana shepherded Leela, Narvin, and K-9 towards the table, while Braxiatel wandered over in a manner that suggested that he wasn't at all bothered by the proceedings.

"Good, you're all here!" exclaimed the woman, who had been tying her long hair back in a ponytail. She was dressed in a neat blue skirt and white blouse, and gave the appearance of being completely calm at all times, no matter the situation. "I was worried that my impassioned message wouldn't convince you."

"As I recall," said Narvin sourly. "Your message said, and I quote, '_big trouble coming, I need help from my BFFs, love, a friend XOXOXOX_' and the time-space co-ordinates of this place. That isn't what I would call 'impassioned'. The word 'desperate' comes to mind."

The woman frowned. "Yes, well. I may or may not have been slightly drunk when I got the idea."

"Who are you?" Leela asked bluntly, sitting down on the nearest chair. "You are a Time Lord, that I can tell, but not one that I have seen in the Capitol."

The woman grinned widely, and spread her arms out. "You don't recognize me? I mean, the body is rather different, but _still_-"

K-9 chose that moment to interject. "Biodata extract suggests that this person is the Doctor-Master."

"Doctor-_Mistress_, if you must," the woman replied, and reached down to ruffle the robot's ears. "Good dog, K-9!"

Romana and Leela's jaws simultaneously dropped, and Narvin began to mutter something under his breath that sounded halfway between a curse and a prayer. Braxiatel simply sighed wearily. "Well," he said. "It looks as if I have a sister now."

"Don't go thinking that you have to scare away any boys that look as if they're going to chat me up," said the Doctor mildly. "I think we're both a bit too old for that."

"You are lying," said Leela, recovering from the initial shock. "The Doctor is… well…"

"Male?" she suggested.

"Yes, that."

"Times and people change, Leela. Speaking of which- Romana, what have you _done _with your hair?"

"I cut it," said Romana severely. "I could ask you the same question. Is it- ginger?"

"Yep," said the Doctor proudly, patting it a bit. "Which, coincidentally, is how I came up with this amazing plan that has no way of working. Last night, my friends possibly accidentally spiked my tea with ginger and I'm rather afraid that I went a bit crazy. "

"You called us to meet you," said Narvin disbelievingly. "because you had an LSD trip."

The Doctor shushed him. "Just listen. You see, insanity does happen to be the root of most genius ideas, and when I was completely and utterly out of my mind, I said to myself, Doctor, shouldn't there be a way for you to prevent the destruction of Gallifrey without unravelling the Web of Time? And I replied to myself, yes Doctor, there probably is, if you just-"

"_The destruction of Gallifrey?_" everyone chorused with varying tones of emphasis and outrage. The Doctor looked slightly embarrassed.

"Oops," she said. "Did I forget to mention that?"

Romana considered finding something fluffy to kick, but decided against it. "Yes, I rather think you did."

The Doctor waved a dismissive hand. "At my current point in time, Gallifrey has been destroyed in the biggest Time War to ever hit history, and all of you are dead. But don't worry about that, I have an excellent plan- sorry, I think you all need drinks, you're all looking a bit pale."

"Yes," said Braxiatel. "I think we do."

"And add extra ginger to mine," put in Romana, resting her head in her hands. "I think I'm going to need it."

"And so," continued the Doctor happily after they'd all indulged in several large and possibly illegal drinks. "I came up with an _excellent _plan to save your- sorry, _our _world from being destroyed- and I'm sure once you've heard it you'll appreciate all of the fine nuances."

Leela blinked a bit, and brought her attention back to the small gathering. "I now believe it is really you."

"You do?" the Doctor looked pleased. "Oh, good."

"You have now been speaking for nearly an hour," Leela continued. "And you have not gotten any nearer to the point. Your words are pointless rambling."

The ginger Time Lady looked distinctly less pleased. "Oh."

Leela smiled. "It is good to see you again. I have missed you." And to everyone else's great surprise, she reached across the table, and swept the other woman into a hug.

There was an awkward silence as she withdrew, broken only by Narvin clearing his throat loudly. "Now that we've got the public displays of affection over and done with, could we please focus on the fact that Gallifrey might be _destroyed_ if we don't act?"

"Yes, how did it happen, anyway?" asked Romana, turning to the Doctor with an odd quirk of her eyebrow. "You weren't exactly clear on that, despite the detail you just described the destruction itself with."

The Doctor coughed rather violently, and said something under her breath. Braxiatel leaned in. "What was that?"

She muttered it again, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

"You did _what?!_" yelled Braxiatel, recoiling from the table with wide eyes.

"It was an _accident,_" she said, sounding like a petulant little girl. "I really didn't mean to-"

"So you 'accidentally' managed to steal the most destructive weapon that the Time Lords have ever managed to create," summarized Narvin. "And then you proceeded to 'accidentally' set it off, thus causing the utter decimation of Gallifrey."

The Doctor folded her arms; she didn't like to be caught out on this sort of thing. "It should probably be noted that I also destroyed all of the Daleks in the process."

Leela perked up. "All of them?"

"Well," said the Doctor. "Most of them. Some of them managed to escape, and some of them were hiding, and don't even get me _started _on the one I found hiding in the TARDIS last week…" She paused for a moment, remembering. "Don't worry; we took care of that one."

Romana rubbed her forehead, where a headache was quickly forming. "So you destroyed Gallifrey to get rid of the Daleks."

"Yep."

"Those would be the same Daleks that somehow managed to get half of their number out of the resulting explosion and are still terrorizing the universe anyway."

The Doctor frowned. "Well, at least I _did _something. As I recall, most of the Time Lords were still dithering about whether killing Daleks would be _ethical _when I did it. And none of you were much help- although that hasn't happened to you yet, so I should probably shut up now, shouldn't I?"

"Yes," said Braxiatel, his voice muffled by his hands which were now covering his face. "Yes, you probably should."

"You see, Leela," Romana said, turning to the only human at the table. "_This _is exactly why I'm President and the Doctor is not."

Leela nodded sagely.

"I'm probably going to really, _really _regret asking this," Narvin said. "But someone has to do it. You said you had a plan that would save us. What is it and how can we help?"

The Doctor beamed. "I knew I could count on you!"

"Don't get hopeful," said Romana. "We haven't agreed to anything yet."

"Fair enough," said the Doctor. "Right, then. The primary starting points for the Time War are all very well defined, although no one could see them until afterwards. I've listed them all and if we can change things just a little bit for all of them, then the War will never have happened. I could probably fix them all on my own, but some of them only happened on Gallifrey, and I can't get back; it's timelocked." She paused, and a smile spread across her face. "Plus, one of you is the Co-ordinator of the Celestial Intervention Agency, and if there's one thing we need to do here, it's intervene." She glanced around expectantly at everyone. "Well?"

There was a long silence.

"Accumulated data suggests 43% chance of success," chipped in K-9, bumping the table with his head.

"Shut up, K-9," said Romana automatically. She paused to scratch her neck. "All my instincts are telling me that this is a really bad idea, but-"

"-but it is the only plan we've got," Leela completed. "I think we should listen to the Doctor."

"No surprise there," Narvin muttered. Leela whacked him with a handy newspaper.

"I am only pointing out that none of us want the destruction of our home planet. And her plan is the only way which we know of that will save it."

"She does have a point," said Braxiatel, examining his nails. "May we see the list?"

The Doctor reached into the black satchel that was looped over the back of her chair, and removed a large old-fashioned looking scroll. "Sure."

Narvin took it and unrolled it. "This is madness."

"This is progress," corrected the Doctor cheerfully. "Slight difference there."

"But only very slight," added Braxiatel dryly, leaning over to look at the lines of handwritten co-ordinates and notes. "Are you quite sure about these?"

"I double, triple, and _quadruple _checked them," she confirmed. "They're all correct. Six points in the primary timeline in total. I think we should be able to sort them out in a couple of days."

"Thank you for telling us this," said Romana crisply. "We'll take care of it, of course; I can delegate some of the tasks to the CIA and-" Her brain caught up with her mouth. "-I'm sorry, did you say _we?_"

"Uh, yes," the Doctor replied, looking delightfully unapologetic. "Did I mention that I might have invited a few of my friends to help?"

"This is dangerously close to becoming out of hand," muttered Narvin. "How many?"

The Doctor began to count on her fingers, then ran out and began to take off her shoes.

"Never mind," Romana sighed. "Let's just get this over and done with. Take us to meet them."

The Doctor sprung to her feet in one smooth movement, and offered Leela a hand up for no apparent reason. "The TARDIS is parked just around the corner."

"Oh good," said Romana mildly. "Leela and I will have a proper chance to meet our replacements. I've been rather looking forward to this, actually."

* * *

The new console room was larger than Romana was used to, and lit well from all sides although there was really no discernable light force. Leela stepped in behind her, and peered suspiciously around.

"You have redecorated," she said simply. "I do not like it."

Braxiatel immediately made his way over to the other side of the room, where two women were hovering. Both were of medium height, but one was a brunette and the other had dark hair that was currently flopping over her eyes.

"Hi," said the brunette, beaming. "You're the Professor's friends, then? I'm Ace."

"Liz," put in the other woman. "Liz Baker. My husband's somewhere else in the ship with everyone else."

"Irving Braxiatel," he replied, with the most charming smile he could muster. He shook both their hands. "I am not her friend, as a matter of fact. I happen to be the Doctor's brother."

"The two are mutually exclusive, are they?" asked Liz with a mischievous glint in her eye, and they all took the opportunity to laugh. The Doctor shot Liz a slightly betrayed look from across the room, where Narvin was poking around the console and mouthed _'help me'_. She gave her a shrug in return.

"Those are two friends," Leela commented. "I am sure that there are more."

The Doctor enthusiastically led her and Romana out of the room, eager for the distraction from her various friends and family ganging up against her. "Yes, Sarah-Jane was rather eager to help, so she's here… somewhere… and Liz's lovely husband is bonding with Mickey over their respective control-freak significant others! Oh, Leela, you're going to just _love _Martha- she's exactly like you except not as violent!"

They turned a corner, and Romana looked curiously at a door labelled 'Beware of the Rhino' as they were hurried past it. The Doctor continued to ramble, oblivious. "There's also Jo and Mel and Bernice- oh, right, and Iris too."

"_Iris?_" Romana exclaimed in horror. "You don't mean Iris Wildthyme?"

"The same," she said cheerfully. "She's an excellent drinking partner, although a bit of a headache occasionally."

"Who is this Iris?" Leela asked with no small amount of curiosity,

"Crazy," said Romana, just as the Doctor said, "Inventive." They both stopped, and glared at each other for a beat.

"Well," said the Doctor eventually. "You'll see when you meet her. They were in the library- oh, here we are!"

They had reached a pair of large wooden doors, and they swung open grandly in front of them to reveal a small congregation of assorted females, as well as two men in the corner looking vaguely uncomfortable.

A blonde woman wearing ridiculous amounts of leopardskin looked up with a gleam in her eyes from her conversation with someone who looked remarkably like her. She pounced in the general direction of Romana, who had a distasteful look on her face generally reserved for insects.

"That's Iris," the Doctor explained rather unnecessarily to Leela. "Hello everyone! This is Romana, and Leela, and- oh, hello, Narvin, have you decided to join us too?"

"Who is he," asked Martha. "And why does he look like a penguin?"

Narvin, who wasn't even wearing his CIA standard robes, looked at her in undisguised puzzlement. "A _penguin_?"

Bernice frowned at Romana from across the room. "Wait a moment," she said. "My ex-boss had a portrait of you in his room."

"You are… my 'replacement'?" Leela asked Sarah-Jane and Mel, who both laughed and began to swap stories.

* * *

Introductions were hastily made between everyone, and they moved in a group towards the console room, where a debate on the merits of blowing stuff up versus subtle manipulations had sprung up between Ace, Liz, and Braxiatel. It was quickly broken up by many of the others who had started being very scared for their general safety.

Benny froze in the doorway, and stared at Braxiatel for a very long time, blinking occasionally. He seemed to feel eyes on the back of his neck, and turned. Their gazes met.

"Ah," he said after a pause. "Bernice. What an unexpected pleasure."

The console room had inexplicably gone dead silent.

"You and I are going to have an extended _chat _in one of the TARDIS rooms_,_" she said with deceptive calmness. "and we're going to have it _now._"

He bit his lip. "Now, I really don't think-"

"But I do," she cut him off, and grabbed him rather violently by the upper arm, dragging him out of the room with a steel in her eyes that would cause a Killoran to take a few steps back.

"How odd," said the Doctor, who knew perfectly well what was going on, of course. "Well, I suppose they'll come back eventually. How about we get started?"

There was murmured agreement from all sides, and everyone crowded around the largest viewing screen as the Doctor brought up a map of the timelines.

"Right," she said, rubbing her hands together. "I do believe that I've briefed you all on what's going on-"

"You didn't for me," Mel pointed out. "You just came along and dragged me out of the _Nostradamus II._"

"-I do believe I've briefed _most _of you on what's going on," the Doctor continued with a pointed glare. "And those of you who haven't got the plan are good at improvising, so I'm sure they'll pick it up- so there's no need to repeat the main points, and we can just get started. We can split up so we can tackle the six points, and since we're all responsible adults- well, most of us at least (yes, Ace, I'm looking at _you_)- we can deal with it easily." She clicked on something, and a graph appeared on-screen. "I've divided us up into five teams, and we'll all go for the last one once we've done all of those."

Mickey raised his hand tentatively.

"Ah!" said the Doctor happily. "A question from the floor! Very well, shoot."

"We've only got the one TARDIS," said Mickey reasonably. "How are we meant to get to all five points separately? I mean, you could drop us off group by group, but that kind of defeats the point of splitting up."

"An excellent question," said the Doctor, clapping her hands together. "But we haven't got just one TARDIS, have we?"

"Indeed not!" exclaimed Iris. "My bus will be able to take three people easily!"

"We have one too," added Narvin.

"Ace has agreed to the use of her motorbike," said the Doctor. "And Benny has kindly donated the use of her Time Ring. That makes five time-space machines, I think."

There were several yelps of protest as everyone worked out exactly who they'd be paired with. The Doctor suddenly and mysteriously disappeared as Romana and Narvin turned to her with murderous glints in their eyes. All the others shuffled away into groups, and began discussing strategies. Mel and Ace appeared to be making it into some sort of competition to see who'd get back first, a contest which Jo cheerfully joined in on.

Bernice stormed back into the room with a furious expression on her face. "You'd better hope desperately that I wasn't paired off with that utter _git,_" she hissed.

"Don't worry," said Sarah-Jane placatingly. "You're with us."

Braxiatel sidled quietly into the corner, pretending he didn't exist. Romana, from across the room, raised an eyebrow at him and mouthed _we will talk later. _He didn't look that thrilled about that possibility for some strange reason.

The Doctor appeared again. "All right, team! Let's get this Alpha Centaurian onto the drag race runway!"

A number of people snorted, and the groups began to file away.

"Do you think this will work?" Jim wondered absently.

"God, no," Mickey replied. "We're all going to die."

* * *

**Team One- Untitled**

"We don't _need _a team name," Narvin grumbled darkly. "Besides, I don't see why I have to go with you two anyway."

Ace was making adjustments to her time-bike to compensate for the weight of two extra passengers. "We watch each other's backs. It's security. And of _course _we need a team name! It's traditional!"

"On Earth, maybe," Narvin pointed out.

"We are on Earth," said Leela blandly, and received a deathly-looking glare from Narvin in return. Ace kicked the bike into gear, and it roared noisily, sounding like a large cheetah that had just been startled.

"Get on!" she said cheerfully, swinging a leg over the side. Leela immediately vaulted onto it, seating herself directly behind the other woman, while Narvin eyed the contraption normally.

"Are you sure it's safe?" he asked nervously. Ace laughed, and Leela joined in.

"Get on, Time Lord," she told him. "You may hold on to me if you wish."

Narvin scowled, and sat on the back awkwardly, steadfastly refusing to accept help from either of the women. Instead, he clutched underneath the seat so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Away we _go!_" cheered Ace, and the bike leapt into the Vortex with a sickening wrench.

Narvin suddenly found that he was holding onto Leela after all. And screaming in a way that really didn't become a Time Lord at all.

"Where are we going?" yelled Leela.

Ace grinned, and turned the bike violently sideways to avoid a paradox. "To punch an evil git in the face!"

"It is the Master!" Leela exclaimed, and Narvin pulled her back down behind the rock where they were all currently hiding.

"It's one of the first catalysts for the Time War, apparently," Ace said. "I don't know. I wasn't there at the time. What's he doing?"

Narvin risked a look. "Typing into a computer bank. Wait a second-" he did an extremely comical double-take. "…he's got a link to the Matrix! That's impossible! We're nowhere near Gallifrey!"

"Looks like he's messing it up," Ace noted. "…sabotage, maybe?"

"Why would he sabotage the Matrix?" Leela asked. "That is 'illogical', as K-9 might say."

"We're going to have to stop him," Narvin concluded.

The three of them watched the Master, hard at work, in silence. He appeared to be doing some form of complex algorithm, and systematically deleting segments as he went. He paused for a second. "I know you're there, you know. There's really no point hiding."

The three of them glanced at each other.

"Damn," said Narvin, and stood up, the other two following.

"What gave us away?" Ace wondered.

"The fact that you were talking," replied the 'evil git'. "You weren't exactly being quiet about it, you know."

All of Team Untitled's members simultaneously tried to pin the blame for this goof-up on the person furthest away from them without speaking, which resulted in a lot of awkward eye rolling, poking, and pointing.

"This is ridiculous," said the Master after a beat. "A savage, a cheetah, and a bureaucrat coming to stop me. Have I sunk so low that I don't get a proper adversary anymore?"

"Yes," said Leela immediately. "And I am not a savage."

Ace glared at him. "I'm not a cheetah anymore, tuna-breath. You know that."

They all immediately glanced at Narvin, who opened his mouth for a moment and then closed it. "I have literally nothing to say to that."

Leela briefly considered pointing and laughing, but dismissed it as being a bit too cruel, even when Narvin was concerned.

"Look," said Narvin finally. "Let's just skip the traditional petty insults, and cut to the chase. We know what you're doing, and we're going to stop you."

The Master started laughing. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"Like this," said Leela, punching him in the face. He keeled over, and Ace kicked him, before leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"By the way," she said. "Your beard is stupid."

Narvin eyed Ace with interest. "Do you happen to need a job?"

The Master groaned in pain, and Team Untitled lugged him awkwardly onto the bike. Leela sat on his spine on the way back to keep him from moving.

* * *

**Team Two- Bickering all the Way**

Iris's bus was smaller on the inside, which was a huge surprise to Liz, who was more used to the spacious interior of the TARDIS. After she had got over the initial shock of the dimensions, she had to admit that it was quite homey and warm. The mini-bar at the rear end of the bus- stocked with quite a lot of alcohol- only helped the effect. Romana, directly upon entering the red double-decker monstrosity, headed into the corner and proceeded to sulk, despite Iris's loud shouting for her to cheer up.

"Where to?" Liz asked. Iris spun the wheel, and grinned, adjusting her shapeless black hat, opening her mouth to speak. But Romana beat her to it.

"One of the first catalysts of the Great Time War," she said, sounding like she was quoting from a textbook. "According to the Doctor's TARDIS archives, anyway- was the refusal of a certain insufferable Time Lord to end the existence of the Daleks."

"So, what," Liz frowned. "We just go erase the Daleks from existence? Isn't that, well…"

Romana sighed. "Unbelievably dangerous and stupidly irresponsible, and possibly fatally damaging to the Web of Time?"

"Well, yeah."

"Exactly!" crowed Iris from the driver's seat, where she was piloting the bus erratically through the Vortex. Romana jerked a thumb in her direction.

"She thrives on chaos and destruction," the Time Lady confided in Liz. "Which is probably why the Doctor shoved her in this team. I have just about the right amount of logic to stop her from breaking anything important."

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that sounds fair. How do _I _contribute to this team?"

Romana opened her mouth, then closed it, looking pensive. "Well…"

"_Great. _I'm useless, aren't I?"

"Don't say that, lovie!" Iris hollered from the front. "We'll find a place for you, don't you worry!"

"I am deeply cheered," said Liz sarcastically. "Let's just get on with this."

"Capital idea," said Romana. The bus landed with a jolt, and there was a momentary silence.

[? Something would've happened?]

* * *

**Team Three- Unwilling**

Mickey and Jim eyed Braxiatel's TARDIS with some interest as they all trooped in. It was, as opposed to the Doctor's, actually disguised as something that a civilian could pass by without stopping and pointing.

"I like it," said Jim after a beat. "Maybe we could convince the Doc to fix the chameleon circuit."

"Not likely," snorted Mickey. "I'm been trying to convince him… er, _her_, sorry, for years now, relatively. I think she thinks it has some sort of charm to it."

"Seriously?" Jim asked incredulously.

"Look," said Braxiatel with the utmost patience. "Could we please just get on with this? None of us want to be here- at least; I'm sure _I _don't want to be here."

"I don't mind being here," Jim said.

Braxiatel sighed and sent the TARDIS spinning into time and space.

"Can we call you Brax?" Mickey asked out of nowhere. "Because calling you Braxiatel is going to take a long time that I'd rather spend saving the universe."

"If you must," Brax muttered, looking as if he'd honestly rather be somewhere else, maybe in a place where everyone worshipped his every move and he could have all of the ridiculously expensive and most likely destructive to his system drinks he could ever dream of. "Oh, look. We're here. Could we hurry up and get this over with?"

Mickey slung his satchel over his shoulder and grinned. "Let's go avert a catastrophe."

"Such as it is," added Jim dryly.

[? Something else?]

* * *

**Team Four- The Smart Ones**

"Here's the plan," Benny told her team as they materialized out of the Vortex. "We reprogram the Dalek battle fleet. We crash their ship in some obscure backwater corner of the Galaxy. We get the hell out of there. We clear on that?"

"Crystal," replied Sarah-Jane, rolling her eyes. "You keep them out of our way, we'll do the rest."

Existence reached over and grabbed them violently around the middle, and proceeded to jerk them into itself. They tumbled to the floor in the middle of a group of Daleks.

"Cruk," said Benny with feeling, and Mel fired the blaster she had found somewhere in the TARDIS, scattering metal pepperpots everywhere. The three women leapt to their feet and ran like hell. Thankfully, the control room was pretty close- they hadn't landed far off.

Mel sat down at a chair- and why did Daleks need chairs anyway?- and began to quickly program the ship, while Benny barricaded the door. Sarah-Jane reached up into a clump of exposed wires, and snipped them, one by one, with a pair of kitchen scissors.

"How's it coming?" Benny yelled, sliding obsolete computer banks over to shove against the doorframe. Mel frowned, and typed a little bit faster.

"Nearly there," she called. "Sarah?"

"I'm done," replied the journalist.

Mel finished up, and typed a long, complicated password in. "And so am I! Let's get out of here."

They all grabbed onto Benny's arm, and with one thought, they were all gone, leaving only the faintest smell of ozone behind them.

**and I seem to have run out of ideas so YES. This will never be finished. Ever. Yes!**


	18. Murder, They Wrote

**Murder, They Wrote**

* * *

It was half past two on a Tuesday afternoon when the two visitors arrived at the Hall. They weren't expected, or announced, or previously known to the inhabitants, but rather seemed to fit themselves into the miniscule gaps between them all the same. They didn't arrive by conventional means, either- they simply seemed to appear amongst everybody, as if they had materialized out of thin air.

Here's how it went.

"Do you hear that?" asked Mrs Gibly in her quaint, quavering old voice that tasted like old cocoa left sitting in a cupboard and beeswax, pausing from her knitting.

The knitting- she was making a long, colourful scarf- was a fairly obscure method of creating clothes- everybody nowadays seemed to use manufacturing machines or have ServoDroids do the work for them. Mrs Gibly appeared to be quite old-fashioned herself, though. All of the clothes that she was wearing (the shawl draped over her shoulders, the flowery skirt printed with all shades and colors of botany) were hand-sewed or made custom for her and her alone.

"Hear what?" asked the man sitting opposite her, not even bothering to look up from the large tablet he was holding up to eye level. He had a sulky, bored sort of expression on, as if he'd rather be somewhere, _anywhere_, else than here- preferably still reading his newspaper.

Mrs Gibly adjusted her glasses, and peered over them at the Hall's other three inhabitants, eyebrows twitching quite severely. "A sort of... oh, I don't know what you'd call it," she dithered, knitting needles clacking together in irritation. "It was this peculiar sort of… aha!" Her eyebrows shot together in triumph as she seized the words she was looking for. "A funny sort of _wheezing and groaning!_"

"Wheezing and groaning?" the man with the sulky expression said disbelievingly, his words swelling with all the flavours of sour pickles, soaked thoroughly in brine. "Mrs Gibly, I do believe you've gone quite insane. All of the rooms in the Hall are quite thoroughly sound-proofed. There is really no way that any sort of… 'wheezing and groaning'… could be heard in this room!"

[That's not quite right, though?] piped an odd voice through the room, echoing around and around. It was strange and ethereal, and if you weren't listening, you might not notice that it had come from the little pile of translucent tentacles that were constantly darting back and forth. [The vents in the Hall are leaky. Sound could easily come through them, yes?] Their voice tasted like Wednesday and the number sixteen, all sweet and sour and just barely there.

The man with the sulky expression sniffed. "Yes, well…" He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable in acknowledging the being's presence, and rather pointedly raised his tablet up again, effectively blocking off any methods at communication.

[You don't like me much, do you?] lilted the being curiously, their tentacles flashing palest purple. They turned their body in the direction of the final member of the little gathering. [What do you think, Mr Black?]

The man with the sulky expression and Mrs Gibly both seemed to turn as well, and all three of them waited patiently for Mr Black's response to this seemingly simple question.

Mr Black, as his name implied, was entirely dressed in black, from his head to his toes. It was impossible to see any hint of skin beneath the dark drapings that completely enveloped him, much less see if he was, really, a man, or perhaps a woman, or maybe something else.

Silence; ticking by like moments on a clockface. Then…

"**Yes,**"  
said Mr Black shortly, and all you could really taste in his voice was charcoal and nightmares.

(Mr Black only really ever talked in monosyllables. No-one really felt inclined to question this choice.)

"Back to the point, my dears," Mrs Gibly said with a tut. _Click click_ _clack _went the knitting needles. "Would anybody care to accompany me to check out that _peculiar _noise that I heard?"

[I will,] volunteered the creature in the corner, rising to float above the ground, with only a few tentacles trailing below them to keep themselves stabilized. They flashed a bright orange as they continued. [It's kind of boring sitting about here, don't you think?]

"Thank you, Ziv, darling," Mrs Gibly smiled, rising to her feet and tucking her knitting into an oversized handbag. "Now, I do believe it came from over in the Library-!"

"Don't forget, the Event begins at three o'clock, _precisely_," said the man with the sulky expression- whose name, coincidentally, was 'Smith'- his sulky expression had cleared up a bit in the last few minutes. "And we wouldn't want to miss that, would we?"

[Of course not,] Ziv trilled. [We'll be back in a jiffy, won't we?]

"Certainly," agreed Mrs Gibly.

* * *

Here's how it went.

There was a sound that sounded like house keys scraping against piano wire were being magnified and intensified and then rewound through an audio recording program.

"This is most definitely not Peru," said a female voice that tasted like a warm summer's day and cinnamon spice, and sounded like it would probably be best put to use saying happier things- as opposed to grumping about Peru, of all places. "You promised me Peru. Instead, what we've got here is a dark room."

"Not my fault," returned a male voice from the other side of the room. Its taste was hard to identify- it was sort of all over the place and made you feel confused about just taking a bite out of it. "The old girl is getting temperamental in her old age-"

"Like you, you mean."

"-oh, now that's _unfair_\- I told you, it's not me, it's the eyebrows-"

The woman laughed. "I'm joking, Doctor. Remember joking?"

"Vaguely," the man said darkly, and there was a crash. "Whoops."

"What did you do this time?" She sounded sort of resigned.

"In my defence, they _really _shouldn't have put a chair directly in my path," said the man sulkily. "I have an idea. Let's find the lights."

"Genius. Pure genius."

Two minutes later (with a lot of crashing and banging and bumping around in the dark involved), the woman had succeeded in finding the light switch and flipping it. Bleak white light flickered through the room, bouncing around the walls, and illuminating everything.

The first thing you'd notice about the two people standing in the room was their strange attire.

The man had, altogether, one of the most ridiculous costumes that you'd ever be likely to encounter. He looked like a magician, or maybe some sort of performer- his black jacket was almost long enough to be called a cape, and was lined with a deep red material that looked like you could sink into it forever.

The woman's clothing, in comparison, was bright and cheerful and eye-catching. She belonged, you'd think, at a beach or a park, playing catch with children and flying kites. Her eyes sparkled with the promise of adventures to be had, and her face was round and beautiful.

"A library," said the man, running his hands over the rows of books, letting the uneven spines bounce his hands up-and-down, up-and-down. He tapped at a copy of _War and Peace, _and hummed speculatively. "Well, it _could_ be Peru."

The woman jerked a hand towards the window, where the curtains were pulled back to reveal a snowy landscape. "Somehow," she said dryly. "I really don't think so."

There was a knock at the door. _Rat-a-tat-tat._ The woman jumped, while her friend turned curiously towards the source of the noise.

"Um," said the woman with a wrinkle of her nose. "Uh, come in?"

The door opened, and Mrs Gibly poked her head in, brightening as soon as she saw them. "_Visitors! _Ziv, dear, come look at this!"

Ziv drifted in as well. [Are you here for the game, too?] they chittered happily. [It'll be ever so exciting with more players!]

The man looked at the woman, and the woman looked right back at him. Almost in complete synchronisation, they shrugged.

"Why not?" asked the woman. "I could do with some fun and games."

"Excellent!" Mrs Gibly exclaimed, eyes crinkling up at the corners.

"I'm the Doctor," introduced the man. "and this is my friend, Clara."

* * *

Here's how it went.

All of them were gathered in the room with all its plush chairs and quaint olde-Earth decorations and fake fire roaring in the furnace.

"So what are we waiting for?" Clara asked, settling comfortably into her plush armchair. "It's some kind of game, right?"

[Exactly,] shrilled Ziv. [It's going to be a _wonderful _game. The _most _wonderful.]

"We're so glad you two showed up," cooed Mrs Gibly, who had pulled out her knitting again and was clicking merrily away. The scarf was slowly but surely emerging. "It's much more fun with more people, wouldn't you say?"

"What sort of game is it?" the Doctor asked, leaning forwards to stare intently at Smith, who was still attempting to read off his tablet. "I'm pretty good at Cluedo, Scrabble, and Parcheesi, but I draw the line at any sort of Monopoly..."

"**No**,"  
said Mr Black shortly from his position in the corner, and everyone turned to stare at him for a moment. He didn't seem especially inclined to elaborate on this.

"Nothing like that," Smith said after a suitable moment of silence had passed. "It's the most serious game there is."

"'The most serious game'?" Clara repeated, frowning. "What, like poker or something?"

Mrs Gibly laughed loudly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Why, of course not, my dear!" She leaned in conspiratorially to Clara, who reciprocated the action so they were almost nose-to-nose. "Today, we play at-" She paused here, dramatically, before whispering the last word. "_Murder._"

Tick, tick, clink, clank, _tock, _the clock hanging on the wall went and everyone could hear it quite clearly because of the sudden silence that seemed to have struck the room at large. Mrs Gibly's eyes were still wide and excited while Clara's expression seemed to have frozen in its place.

"Um," she said after a second of this uncomfortable silence. "When you say 'murder', you _do _mean a sort of… pretend murder… right?"

[How boring!] twittered Ziv, tentacles drifting upwards and flashing merrily in brightest pink. They appeared to be laughing in their own peculiar way. [No, one of _us _is going to get murdered!]

"Exactly!" said Mrs Gibly. "And the rest of us need to figure out who it is that's done it!"

Clara's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and she looked utterly lost for words.

"Are you saying," said the Doctor, suddenly looking a whole lot less like a magician and a whole lot more like a man on the verge of completely losing his temper. "That one of us is going to _die,_ killed by _another _one of us, all for a silly little… _game_?"

[It's not _silly,_] Ziv said sulkily.

The Doctor was on his feet and pacing already. "Of _course _it's not silly! What am I saying? It's not silly in the least! No, it's _absolutely insane!_ How can any of you value life so little?"

"Don't say that, Doctor," Smith frowned. "You'll spoil the fun."

"What fun?" exclaimed Clara. "You think _dying _is fun?"

Mrs Gibly shook her head sadly, clucking her tongue. "Oh, not you too, Clara. You seemed like such a nice girl."

"We're leaving," said the Doctor tersely, turning around sharply in a swirl of black and red. "Come on, Clara."

"But-" Clara began to object, glancing around the room

"We're not going to risk our lives for this," he said, quite firmly. "We're going to leave, and we're going to report this to someone else. _I'm not having you killed on my watch._"

"How is this any different from anything else we do?" Clara demanded, stepping forwards to meet him. "There's a chance that we'll be killed, but there's also a chance that we _won't!_ Don't you want to know what's going on?"

"I know what's going on," said the Doctor darkly, and sighed. "Oh, _Clara…_ let's just go. Just this once."

"**No,**"  
said Mr Black shortly, and both Clara and the Doctor turned sharply to look at him.

"What do you mean, no?" Clara asked, biting at her lip.

"He means, 'no, you can't leave'," Smith clarified. "The room's locked, anyway. The game's about to start."

The clock on the wall read '2:55', and the time was still ticking by steadily. The Doctor glared at it, and then lunged for the handle of the door, rattling it. It refused to budge, even when he kicked irritably at it with a foot. Inexplicably, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket, slipped them on, and stared intensely at the lock while a buzzing noise seemed to emanate from them. After a few seconds of this, he whipped them off with a growl. "Deadlocked. We're sealed in."

"Okay, what if we…" Clara glanced around for inspiration, and grimaced. "There's no windows. What sort of room has no windows?"

"A boring room," the Doctor snapped back, beginning to knock on the walls, pressing his ear to them. "A room made by people with no imagination."

"I designed this house," Smith objected.

"I stand by my previous statement," said the Doctor, still tapping on the walls.

"There's no way out, you know," said Mrs Gibly, who had returned to her knitting. "Now, would you two hush for a while? You'll make me drop a stitch."

"There's always a way out," Clara said, and looked at Smith. "Okay, so you know all about this murder game thing, right? How does it work?"

Smith finally put down his tablet, seeming happily to be explaining something. "It's fairly simple. One of us in this room is a trained, hired assassin. None of us know who the assassin is- it could be any one of us."

[Well,] hummed Ziv. [None of us _except _the assassin, really.]

"Yes, well," Smith said, with a roll of his eyes. "At three o'clock precisely the lights will go out, one of us will die in a suitably messy and horrible way, and then the fun will start. And that is… about it, really."

The Doctor turned sharply. "What if…" he began in the tone of one who has just had an excellent and remarkable idea. "…what if we find out who the murderer is _before _the lights go out?"

Mrs Gibly looked uncomfortable. "Well," she said. "That would ruin all the fun, wouldn't it? And you'd have to do it in less than…" She looked up to the clock. "…four minutes, give or take."

[It would take a genius,] Ziv opined.

"Excellent," said Clara happily, and looked to the Doctor. "Where do we start?"

The Doctor grinned in a particular sort of way that made him look boyish and mischievous. "Elementary, my dear Oswald. We start by eliminating the suspects." He clapped his hands together quite loudly, and spun around dramatically. "First, we'll assume that neither I nor Clara are the would-be murderers."

"But what if you are?" Mrs Gibly asked.

"We aren't," Clara said decisively.

"But what," Mrs Gibly pressed. "if you _are?_"

"You're trying to distract us," the Doctor said before Clara could retort. "Nice try; won't work. Also, you've rocketed up on our list of suspects."

She looked surprised. "I _have?_"

"First," said the Doctor, sweeping over to Ziv to wave a hand in their direction. "Let's examine Ziv here. You're a member of a species called the Host 68, aren't you? Silicon-based life form, shows emotion through flashing colors, can hover a bit, and most _importantly,_" he poked one of their outstretched, still waving, tentacles. "you can't tell a lie. Can you?" he added, making the sentence a question.

Ziv was silent.

"She can't," said Smith, a bit triumphantly. "It's true."

"_They _can't," the Doctor corrected with a raised eyebrow. Ziv flushed palest pink, and tilted their body in an approximation of a nod.

[That's correct,] they fluted softly.

"I get it," said Clara, nodding. "In that case… hey, Ziv- are you the murderer?"

Ziv twisted their tentacles together awkwardly. [No,] they admitted eventually. [I'm not.]

"_There _we go." The Doctor moved quickly along, after a hasty glance towards the clock. Three minutes left. "Now then. Let's see, Mrs Gibly. Who are you?"

"Human, from Earth." She appeared to have realized that it wasn't a good idea to stand in the Doctor's way, especially not when he was like this. "I was-"

"Came to the Hall for fun and excitement after several affairs gone awry," interrupted Smith from the corner. Everyone looked at him, and he raised an eyebrow. "and one assassination attempt on her, conducted primly by her last ex-wife. What? I'm running this. It's only natural that I'd know about everyone involved."

"Interesting," said the Doctor. "What about you? You're an event organiser, an architect, and… a stock broker, judging by what you're reading and the notes you're taking. Quite a range of professions."

"Sorry," interrupted Clara with a frown. "But we've got just over two minutes left, and I notice we're not talking about the creepy guy in the black outfit who's sitting in the corner, not saying a word. Doesn't 'creepy black cloak guy' raise some suspicion? Just a bit?" She shrugged, a bit uncomfortably.

"No, you're right," said the Doctor, attention flashing away from everyone else in the room in less than a second. "Mr Black. Usually I'd say not to judge a book by its cover, but I've seen enough in the last few centuries to know that _sometimes, _the person who looks most suspicious is the one behind it all."

Mr Black appeared to stare at him, although it was hard to tell.

"**No,**"  
said Mr Black shortly.

(One minute left. Tick-tock.)

"This is impossible," Clara said. "We're never going to solve this one in time. There's no-" Her gaze caught on the door, and her eyes widened. "…Doctor! The door hinges!"

"What?" He spun around.

"The door hinges- they're just held on by screws! You don't need to open the lock; you just need to take the door _itself _off!"

He whipped his sunglasses out of his pocket and jammed them on, squinting as they began to whirr and buzz. "Clara, that's brilliant!"

"Hurry up and do it!" she said, biting at her lip, hands twitching nervously by her sides.

Thirty seconds.

One screw unwound itself, and popped out to clatter noisily on the floor. Another began to twirl, agonisingly slow.

Fifteen seconds.

Clara's voice was strained with the bitter tastes of lemon. "_Hurry up!_" she yelped.

Then

the lights

went

_out._

* * *

Here's how it went.

There was instant silence, except for the buzzing of the sunglasses, and then everyone started to talk and yell at once, and everything was confusing and noisy, and

"_Shut up, all of you,_" the Doctor's voice broke through the noise.

Everyone shut up.

Clara's voice rang through the dark room. "Okay, nobody screamed in pain or made horrible death-rattle noises, so I can assume we're all alive, right?"

"Call off," suggested the Doctor. "Mrs Gibly?"

"Here."

"Ziv?"

[Yes.]

"Smith?"

"…reluctantly."

"Clara and I are both here," the Doctor concluded. "So that makes all of us… except for Mr Black, who I doubt would respond anyway."

"He could be dead, though," said Mrs Gibly with no small amount of glee. "Ooh, how exciting!"

"Mr Black?" Clara called into the darkness. There was no response for a moment.

"**Ow,**"  
said Mr Black shortly.

There was a _thump_, and the lights flickered back on again. It took everyone's eyes a moment to adjust to this sudden change in light. But when they could see, it was fairly obvious to everyone there, that:

a) Mr Black was lying on the ground

b) Mr Black was (probably) the victim of the murder (a fact further emphasised by the other fact that a dark red stain was spreading from his back, and,

c) Nobody was conspicuously and obviously holding the murder weapon- which just made the chore of finding the murderer a whole lot harder.

"Oh, _no,_" breathed Clara, horrified, taking a tentative step towards his body.

"Oh, yes!" laughed Mrs Gibly happily, her fingers fluttering happily and uncontrollably.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and other beings," said Smith with a thin but visible smile. "we have our first murder of the night."

"_First _murder?" Clara asked incredulously. "What, you mean there's going to be more?"

[Of course there is,] Ziv laughed. [As the game progresses and the murderer isn't discovered, more and more people will die, until either the murderer or the winners remain.]

"You're all psychopaths," Clara said, taking a step backwards in the Doctor's direction, where it would be considerably safer.

"Clinically diagnosed," agreed Smith. "It's the only way that you'd be allowed to play if you didn't sneak in."

Behind everyone, the sunglasses finally succeeded in taking the last screw off the door. Nobody noticed.

The Doctor moved forwards, and carefully flipped over Mr Black's body, taking off his layers of clothing- of which there were quite a lot. Underneath the covering of black, he was wearing plain white garments (they were soaked in dark red blood) and underneath _that-_

It was a young boy, no more than 14 years old, his face contorted in pain and his fair hair drenched in blood as well. Clara clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified, while nobody else in the room looked even remotely shaken.

"We get all sorts here," said Smith. "Besides, he's a psychopath too, remember?"

The Doctor flipped the boy over again to examine his back. It was a clean wound, relatively deep, that had gone all the way through the small of his back. There was no sign of the weapon that had dealt the blow, however, and there wasn't a trail of blood to show where it had gone. It seemed as if the weapon had gone in, and had simply… disappeared.

"Curiouser and curiouser," he muttered underneath his breath.

"_Murder most foul, as in the best it is,_" chimed in Mrs Gibly, grinning happily. "How very _exciting!_"

* * *

Here's how it went.

The Doctor screwed the door back on (there was no point in letting everyone out into the house when there was a murderer about) and Clara stood steadfastly near the light switch, just in case someone tried to kill again in the dark.

The Doctor paced around the room, while everyone watched him nervously.

He suddenly stopped, and turned swiftly to face everyone.

"I have gathered you all here today-" he began, a grin spreading across his face.

"Don't you dare," Clara said flatly, and he gave her a look akin to a puppy that had just been kicked soundly in the stomach.

"Fine," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Ruin my fun."

* * *

**(Insert more writing in which Smith is murdered as well here and more panic, etc.)**

* * *

Clara's face had been acquiring a curious sort of expression over the past couple of minutes. It was almost thoughtful- her brow was crinkled up and her eyes cast off into the distance.

"Sorry," she said suddenly. "But does anybody think that this whole thing is sort of… odd?"

The Doctor turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Clara," he said incredulously. "We're currently in a mansion where people are waiting to be killed off as part of some sort of game, and nobody but us seems to think that's strange in least. I think 'odd' is a bit of an understatement, don't you?"

"No, not that," she disagreed, flapping a hand at him distractedly. "It's more… the plot, really."

[What plot?] Ziv asked with a chatter of their limbs. They looked like they were getting twitchy at staying still for too long, and kept drifting absentmindedly in the direction of the door before almost forcibly pulling themselves back.

Clara bit at her lip for a moment, and waved her hands around in the air as if trying to pluck the words needed from her surroundings. "This whole thing," she came up with eventually. "Doesn't it seem to you like a bad murder mystery?"

Everyone looked puzzled, except for the Doctor, who seemed to be working something out in his head.

"I mean," Clara went on, "we've got a collection of people with strange and interesting backstories, a locked room, a murder that doesn't actually make sense, and-" she frowned. "-there's just something not quite _right_."

"How ridiculous," murmured Mrs Gibly, but the Doctor snapped his fingers loudly in the air, and pointed at Clara.

"No, not ridiculous!" he exclaimed, looking pleased with himself. "Clara, Clara, Clara, _Clara-_"

"Yes, that's my name," she said, looking a bit annoyed, as if he repeated her name like this on an almost daily basis. "What is it?"

"Listen to me for a moment," he instructed. "More specifically, listen to my _voice-_ ignore the actual words, they won't make much sense- and stop me when you notice something."

"Okay?" Clara said, looking unsure.

The Doctor nodded, cleared his throat, and began to briskly recite a poem. "_Zagreus sits inside your head, Zagreus lives among the dead, Zagreus sees you in your bed and eats you when you're-_"

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Mrs Gibly interrupted with a frown. "Sounds like a load of nonsense to me."

The Doctor sighed. "It _is _nonsense. It's a traditional rhyme from my home planet that was sung in order to terrify our small children into sleeping, because we couldn't think of any other logical way to get them to have a nap. Shut up for a moment while Clara listens. _Zagreus at the end of days, Zagreus lies all other ways, Zagreus comes when Time's a maze, and all of history's-_"

"Stop!" exclaimed Clara, eyes wide. "I've got it!"

"Yes?" the Doctor asked with a grin.

"I can _taste _your voice!" she said excitedly. "It's all strange- like mixed berries and coffee and…" she waved her hands around again, struggling for words. "-oh, I don't know!"

"Exactly," the Doctor said with an approving glance at her. "It's a type of synaesthesia. We're experiencing voices as tastes- that's not very normal, as far as synaesthesia goes," he added, "but who am I to comment? I usually see Time as colors." He seemed to change moods at the speed of light. "But do you know what this means?"

"Wait, back up," Clara frowned. "You see time as colors? Is that normal for Time Lords, or is that just a Doctor thing?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a bit of both. Back to my original question- do you know what this means?"

[No…] Ziv said, their tentacles curiously flashing light green.

"It means that all of this," he threw out an arm to sweep across the whole room, "has been constructed by someone else. You all may be playing a game, but somebody else is playing you!" His voice rose to a shout as he directed his next words up to the ceiling. "_Isn't that right?_"

The lights went out.

* * *

Here's how it went.

"Doctor?" Clara called out into the darkness.

"I'm fine!" The Doctor said loudly. "Ziv? Mrs Gibly?"

[Yes,] Ziv said softly.

* * *

**So, I guess you're wondering why I've cut off this story like this. It's not for the reason you may think- I didn't lose inspiration this time- I actually rather liked what I did here and I knew exactly how I was going to finish it.**

**No, here's what happened.**

**I got an email from someone, telling me that the story I was submitting to the Clara anthology had to be under 2000 words, instead of the 5k+ that I had already written.**

**Yep, that's right.**

**MY FANFICTION'S GOING TO GET PUBLISHED IN AN ACTUAL BOOK! There are no words I can use here to contain my excitement- I'm really, _really _happy to be sharing this with you guys at last. I kept it a secret because I find that if everyone knows about a thing that I'm working on, it's really hard for me to complete. Yeah, a silly reason, I know, but it seemed reasonable at the time. :P This is the reason I haven't been posting much (as well as the fact that I've got into Homestuck and it's ruining my life help)**

**So, instead of explaining what the book's about, I'm going to copy and paste some stuff from the official blog of the project.**

_**101 Claras To See** is a charity fanthology project by sirdef and abossycontrolfreak. We are collecting 101 fanworks that celebrate Clara Oswald and show off the talented and creative fandom that has sprung up around her. These will be published in a gorgeous book for you to own and love. We are also delighted to announce that this is a charity project, with all proceeds going to One to One Children's Fund, which Jenna Coleman is an ambassador for._

_Pre orders will be opening on April 27th (Jenna's birthday!) at our Big Cartel site. The book will cost $28 US, with a flat rate of $12 US for shipping worldwide. For that, you get one hundred and one amazing pieces, the majority of which are exclusive to the book! There may also be a few little surprises from the creators!_

**Basically, I've submitted four pieces that will be in this book- two completely new ones that I'm not going to publish on here, a slightly edited version of 'Time And Relatively Distracting Innuendo-related Scandals' and a rewritten version of this one- 'Murder, They Wrote'- which takes out a lot of the OCs I put in here and turns it into a completely different story. **

**I really recommend that you go and buy/preorder the book (not just because my stuff will be in it hahaha nope) because, a) the money's going to a very good cause that's fully endorsed by Jenna Coleman, b) my stuff's in it (okay fine I lied a bit), and c) the other people that are contributing to it are really amazing and talented and I can tell you right here and now that this thing's going to be _amazing. _**

**In case you want to find out more about this thing, the project's Tumblr is 101clarastosee (dot tumblr dot com). Please go check it out, if nothing else, 'cause it's a really brilliant project and they've posted some previews of art and stuff on the blog (CLARA IN A TIME LORD COSTUME HECK YES)**

**Ohhh man. I'm so happy about this you have no idea. *dances happily off into the distance* **


	19. Magic and Mayhem

_So, some info is prudent here, I think. I haven't been active around here as much as I usually am, and that's due to a number of things, not least including school and other projects. :P But I decided to slip this thing that I'm working in here, just because I felt like it._

_I'm... not too proud of this, to be honest. One of my younger friends at school wanted me to write a story with her extremely OP self-insert, who has a lot of extraordinary powers and is the 'Slytherin Princess'. I agreed, but decided to make it fun for myself. Which is the reason why so many Homestuck characters are in this, as well as Ace and the Seventh Doctor. She hasn't noticed anything off about it, so I'm going to continue as far as I can with this thing. :D It's currently being updated on WattPad (which I don't generally use, but I got bullied into it)._

_Basically, this story refuses to take anything seriously, least of all itself. It's a fun little romp. Please don't judge me too much. _

_So, um, meet Vendetta Akeldama. Who apparently is Voldemort's daughter in secret, and can read books by just touching them. (No, really.)_

_Here, for your viewing pleasure (?) are the first four chapters of 'Magic and Mayhem'. _

* * *

**Chapter One: In Which Acquaintances Are Made, And Magic Is Proved To Be Very Real Indeed**

At exactly 11 o'clock in the morning on the first of September of Vendetta's first year at Hogwarts, the Hogwarts Express pulled out from King's Cross Station with a rumble of mechanics and wheels and a loud _hiss _of steam. It took off along the tracks, picking up speed as it went, and students pressed their faces to the windows, waving goodbye to their families until the train turned the corner and they were all out of sight.

In the fifth compartment from the end of the train, a girl with long black hair hanging loose was sitting alone, legs stretched out along the seat and a book in her hands. She was almost entirely focused on the book, occasionally reaching up to adjust her reading glasses.

There was a knock at the sliding door of the compartment, and the girl straightened up, putting down the book. "Come in!" she called.

"Um, I don't believe I can!" came the muffled reply from outside. "Would you mind opening the door for me?"

The girl stood up, and crossed to the door, sliding it open. A tiny girl peeked over the large stack of books she was carrying and grinned appreciatively, carefully ducking down so the books could pass into the compartment without clipping the top. She carefully shifted the pile of books onto the unoccupied seats, and shook her hands out, before going back outside to collect her, comparatively tiny, suitcase. She was petite, dressed in a dark green suit, and had bright white hair that brushed around her shoulders, which looked as if it was dyed.

"Thank you!" She bit her lip. "You wouldn't mind terribly if I sat with you, would you? It's my first year here, you see, and-"

"Mine too!" interrupted the other girl, smiling. "Sure, you can sit here! I don't have any friends yet, so I guess I'll need to make some."

"I'm Calliope," said the white-haired girl, offering a shy smile. "But you may call me Callie if you want."

"Vendetta," replied the other girl. "Also known as 'the direct descendant of Satan' in some places."

Calliope laughed, and sat down, pushing her suitcase under the seats. "Gosh, how did you go about picking up a nickname like that?"

"It's a very long, very violent story," Vendetta grinned. "Suffice to say, the boys at my old school are pretty much absolutely terrified of me. I don't like boys much, in case you couldn't tell."

Calliope shrugged. "Boys are okay, I suppose," she sighed. "I just haven't had much in the way of contact with them, apart from my brother."

"Your brother?" Vendetta leaned forwards.

"Yes," she said. "He isn't the most… well, let's say that he doesn't get along with me very much."

"If he annoys you, I'll kick his ass," Vendetta snorted.

"You'd do that for me?" asked Calliope, staring.

"Well,_ yeah,_" Vendetta said in the tone of one stating the completely obvious. "You're my friend, right?"

Calliope looked completely startled, and didn't seem to be able to speak at that.

"What's the matter? Haven't you had a friend before?"

"Not really," Calliope admitted quietly. "I think… you would be my first?"

Vendetta frowned, looking like she was about to say something. But before anything could be said, the door opened again, and a pale, red-headed girl looked in. "Um, is this compartment taken, or can anyone come in?"

"Sure!" Vendetta said instantly, pulling her bags up so there was more space on her side of the room.

"The more the merrier," Calliope added, and the girl gave a quick thumbs-up, dragging her old trunk inside. Vendetta and Calliope stood up, and helped her heave the large box up into the rack.

"I'm Ginny," said the new girl once they had all had a chance to catch their breath. "Ginny Weasley. It's my first year at Hogwarts. My brother was supposed to sit with me on the way here, but I couldn't find him anywhere." She pulled a face.

"It's our first year too!" Vendetta said cheerfully, falling back into her seat. "I'm Vendetta, and this is Callie."

"Both Muggleborn?" Ginny asked with a quirked eyebrow, and laughed when both of them nodded. "Well, you have a lot to look forwards too."

"I've read a lot about the school in my books!" Calliope interjected, excited. "There are so many fascinating places that I would like to visit! Did you know that the roof of the Great Hall projects an appearance of the outside sky, no matter what the time is?"

Ginny looked interested. "I think Fred and George may have mentioned it once, yeah, but that's pretty cool!"

"Imagine being in there at night!" Vendetta exclaimed. "You could go stargazing without actually having to be outside!"

"That would be amazing!" Calliope said, scrambling to her pile of books and sorting through them. She pulled out a small blue book, and flipped through it, turning to a page on the constellations. "I love the stars. See this constellation?" She pointed to a page, and the other two girls crowded around her to look at it.

"Pretty," said Vendetta, with a loss of anything else to say.

"That one is mine," she said, beaming. "It's called Ophiuchus- it's the thirteenth constellation in the star signs."

"I thought there were only twelve," pointed out Ginny. "Aries, Taurus, Virgo, Libra, and all the rest, right?"

"That's a common misconception," Calliope said, brushing her hair back from her eyes. "Ophiuchus is little-known, but definitely the most beautiful, in my opinion."

"Fight me," said Ginny, folding her arms. "I'm a Leo."

Calliope laughed, and shut the book.

"So, what do you guys know about Hogwarts so far?" Vendetta asked, who had pulled out her book- _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes- _and was reading again.

"Only what my brothers told me," said Ginny. "And considering that they told me I need to fight a troll in order to be Sorted into the houses, I don't think I can trust them on that-"

"So we have no idea what's coming," Vendetta concluded. "Awesome."

Ginny gave her a sympathetic look, but brightened instantly. "But, hey! We've got magic, right?" She pulled her wand out of her pocket and gave it an experimental twirl, frowning. "I can only do one thing with it at the moment-"

"You can do magic?" Calliope's eyes gleamed, and she leaned in close. "Go on, show us!"

"I'm not very good," Ginny cautioned, tilting her head dubiously. She yerked it in a swirly motion. "_Lumos!_"

The carriage lit up with a bright, white light, and Calliope bounced up and down with excitement. "You did it!"

"Awesome!" Vendetta cheered, and scrambled for her suitcase, digging through clothes and books to get to her wand. "Hang on, let me try- what was the thing you said? _Lumos!_"

Her wand lit up too, albeit a little dimmer. Calliope shrugged, and tugged her own wand- a bright silver wood- out of the inside of her jacket. She stared at it for a moment, and furrowed her brow.

"Lumos!" she said decisively, and it flared brightly. She beamed. "Fantastic!"

"You aren't allowed to do magic until you get to school, dears," came an elderly voice from outside. "But congratulations, anyway. Would you like anything from the trolley?"

Vendetta leaned forwards, and pushed the door open with her foot to reveal a woman pushing a trolley heaped with all manner of candies and goodies.

"Would I ever," said Ginny with a sigh, but shook her head. "I don't have any money, though."

"Me neither," said Calliope, with a wistful glance in the direction of the trolley. "It looks absolutely delicious though, I will have to remember to bring some next time."

"That sucks," said Vendetta sympathetically, and rose to her feet. "Here, how about I buy some stuff for you guys? You look hungry enough, and all that looks delicious."

"Oh, absolutely not," Calliope began, although she still looked tempted, at the same time as Ginny said, "You really don't need to-"

Vendetta stepped out into the hallway of the train, produced a Galleon, and grinned. "What do you have?"

Five minutes later, when Vendetta was loaded with all the food and candy that she could possibly carry, she was about to head back to her compartment when she was almost knocked over by a girl who was running as fast as she could along the hallway. Vendetta nearly fell over, but caught herself just in time.

"Hey, careful," she began to snap, but the other girl, who was a bit older than her, with her brown hair back in a slightly dishevelled ponytail, began to apologize instantly.

"Sorry about that, a bunch of Slytherins were chasing me and I kind of need to get away-"

Vendetta nodded at that, and motioned to the door of the compartment. "Come on in- we'll cover for you."

"Cheers," the girl grinned, and ducked inside. "The name's Ace, by the way."

Vendetta followed with the food, closing the door quickly behind her. She spread everything out on her seat. "Go ahead and eat something," she said to Calliope and Ginny, and tilted her head towards Ace. "This is Ace, and she's running away from-"

"A bunch of Slytherins," Ace completed, sounding out of breath. "Seventh years, to be precise. I… may have made them mad?"

"How did you manage to make a bunch of Slytherins mad?" Ginny asked incredulously. Apart from her slightly wicked grin, Ace looked entirely harmless. Her black jacket was covered with a large amount of colourful pins that she appeared to have collected herself, and her eyes twinkled with barely concealed mischief.

"Well, I-" she began, but was cut off by Vendetta.

"What the hell is a Slytherin?" she demanded.

"Well, they're-" Ace began again, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Her cheerful expression wilted like a sickly flower. "...right outside that door." She swore underneath her breath. "_Great. _Just great."

"What do we do?" Ginny asked, eyes wide.

"Try not to panic," said Ace grimly, pulling out her wand from behind her ear and muttering a quick incantation. Within seconds, her body had turned almost entirely translucent, like she was some sort of human chameleon. "Move over," she said to Calliope, who shifted over instantly. "I'll use the books as cover."

She was just in time. The sliding door slammed open, and several large, hairy boys stood in the entrance.

"Have you seen her?" barked the lead one, who resembled a gorilla slightly more than the rest of them.

"Seen who?" asked Vendetta innocently.

"That girl," he grunted. "The one who stuck half of our Quidditch team to the roof of the train."

"Half the Quidditch team?" Ginny muttered, impressed. "Nice one."

The patch of air that vaguely resembled Ace grinned and gave her a thumbs-up which the Slytherins didn't notice.

"I believe she went that way," suggested Calliope, pointing back in the direction that the boys had come from.

The Slytherins looked at each other, shared a collective shrug, and stampeded back down the corridor, not even bothering to shut the compartment door behind them.

The four of them waited in silence for a couple of seconds, just in case they came back.

Ace flickered back into visibility. "Thanks."

"No problem," Ginny said, picking up a Liquorice Wand from their pile of food. She regarded it for a second, and then presented it to Ace. "Here, have some food."

"It's yours," she said. "I shouldn't really-"

"Eat," said Vendetta, slightly ominously. "We also need to interrogate you about all things Hogwarts. You're a second-year, right?"

"Third-year," Ace corrected, slightly offended. She settled down next to Calliope and chose a Cauldron Cake. "I'm really not that short, am I?"

"You are, a bit," said Ginny, laughing. "But you stuck half a team of Slytherins to the top of a train, so I think I'll choose to take you seriously."

"What _is _a Slytherin, anyway?" Calliope asked, examining a Chocolate Frog carefully.

"It's one of the four Houses at Hogwarts," Ace explained. "You get Sorted as soon as you get there, which basically means you get shoved into one of them, depending on what qualities you have. Slytherin's known for 'wit and cunning', apparently, but they're pretty much known for being completely evil."

"Not a good witch or wizard has ever come out of Slytherin," added Ginny. "That's what Dad always says."

"Hey, my favorite teacher came from Slytherin," Ace said. "Don't judge them too much. Some of them are pretty cool."

Calliope nodded. "What about the other houses?"

"Well, I'm in Gryffindor," Ace said, plucking at one of the pins on her jacket- a lion emblazoned in red and gold. "We're known for being headstrong idiots who rush into trouble at the earliest given opportunity." She flashed them a grin. "We're the best house. Although, I'm a bit biased, so don't take my word for it. There's also Ravenclaw- they're the smart ones, if you need your homework done for you, go ask a Ravenclaw- and Hufflepuff, they're the really loyal ones. My best friend's a Hufflepuff."

"Nice," Vendetta said. "I think I might be a Slytherin."

Ace mock-gasped. "Oh no! This means our unlikely friendship has ended, almost as quickly as it began! I can never talk to you again!" She closed her eyes, shook her head, and very slowly and dramatically turned away from Vendetta.

"Anyway," she continued, opening her eyes. "What about you two?"

Calliope giggled, while Ginny just shook her head and smiled.

"All my family's been in Gryffindor," said Ginny. "So…" She shrugged. "You know."

"I have honestly no idea," Calliope said. "I suppose I'll find out."

"Is there any truth to the rumour that you have to fight a troll to be Sorted?" Vendetta asked, excited.

"I'm not talking to you, Slytherin scum," Ace sniffed playfully. "And even if I were, I definitely wouldn't be able to tell you that I can neither confirm nor deny such rumours about the Sorting."

"_Please?_" Vendetta begged.

"Logically, it wouldn't be a very good idea to Sort people using a troll," Calliope pointed out. "How would you even segregate students into Houses using a _troll,_ of all things?"

"Easy," Ace said cheerfully. "If you run directly at the troll in order to attack with no regard for your own safety, you go into Gryffindor. If you manipulate the kid behind you into doing it themselves, you're a Slytherin. If you decide to help your friends to work together in order to beat the troll, you go into Hufflepuff."

"And if you're smart enough not to attack a mountain troll in the first place?" Ginny asked, eyes narrowed.

"Then you're a Ravenclaw," said Ace. She smirked. "But that's not what actually happens."

"Pity," said Calliope. "It sounded rather interesting."

* * *

**Chapter Two: In Which Our Heroes Are Sorted, And House Rivalries Are Cemented**

The four of them chatted long into the day, discussing all sorts of things- their lives, their families, their interests. As it turned out, Calliope was quite an accomplished writer, artist and singer (although she blushed quite a lot when the other three girls encouraged her to sing a few lines of a song). Vendetta shared some stories about her old school, which mainly involved her breaking the arms of boy that had annoyed her for some reason or another, and in one memorable case, a really annoying girl.

Ginny had six brothers, and as such was very well equipped for dealing with people that annoyed her. She had grown up in a magical household, and so was accustomed to magic, but she still found it fascinating.

Ace was a Muggleborn, as well, but she had managed to make a lot of things blow up even before she had heard of magic. She continued to enjoy causing trouble and blowing things up at Hogwarts, but was (apparently) one of the best Potions students in well over a decade.

"It's just like chemistry," she said when asked about this. "Mixing ingredients is fun."

When the train began to slow down, they all glanced up in surprise- they had no idea that so much time had passed.

"I'd better go and get changed," Ace said, standing up. "I'll see you lot at the feast!"

"Bye," the three first-years chorused, already getting out their robes from their trunks. Ace waved, and ducked out of the compartment.

As they finished pulling their robes on, the train stopped entirely. An announcement echoed over the train, informing students that they had arrived and that they should leave their belongings in the train to be taken to the castle.

"I guess we should go," Ginny said.

The three of them made their way out of the train and onto the platform outside, where all the students were gathered.

"Firs' years over here!" came a loud voice over the roar of the crowd.

"That's us!" squeaked Calliope, tugging the other two over.

They all crowded into one of the small boats rocking in the large lake, and were joined by a fourth person- a young boy with sandy-blonde hair.

"I'm Fletcher," he said, and the three of them introduced themselves. They waited nervously for something to happen- it was fairly dark, and the water below them was making ominous patterns.

"When do you think-" Vendetta began, but was cut off by the large man in charge tapping the boats with his pink umbrella and all of the boats lurching forwards in synchronization. "-_oh!_"

The boats glided across the lake in eerie silence, broken only by the sounds of students whispering excitedly to their friends.

"There it is!" Ginny said, pointing out in front of them. "Hogwarts!"

They rounded a bend, and there it was- big and looming and lit up with flickering lights in every tower and window.

"It's beautiful," Calliope breathed.

"I can't wait," said Vendetta, leaning forwards over the side of the boat.

* * *

The Great Hall was, indeed, just as great as Calliope had described. The stars shining on the roof were just visible beyond the hundreds of candles lighting up the ceiling.

Almost every student seated at the four long tables turned to look as the first years entered the Hall for the very first time. A hushed silence swept through the Hall.

"Do you feel nervous?" Vendetta asked in a low voice to her friends. "Because I feel nervous. Very nervous."

Ginny was scanning the Gryffindor table anxiously. "My brother's not here. Where do you think he might-"

A tall, severe-looking woman in long robes began to walk down the aisle, carrying a stool with a hat on.

"A hat?" Calliope asked, puzzled.

The hat opened its mouth, and the first years stepped back collectively in shock. Nobody else seemed phased by this, not even when the hat began to sing.

"_I am but a lonely Hat, and this; it is my song,  
I sit upon an study shelf and think the whole day long,  
I may not look too pretty, as you can plainly see,  
But my humble appearance isn't all there is to me-_

_"For if you place me on your head, I'll look my way through there,  
No matter how deeply buried, I'll find out what would appear,  
To be the best House for you, in Witch and Wizard-ry,  
Your House will be your home and life in this Academy-_

_"In Gryffindor, I'll put the ones whose words and lives are strong,  
They'll laugh and sing and cheer out loud, and right what things are wrong,  
In Ravenclaw will go the folks whose mind and wits are sharp,  
They'll puzzle out the tricky things, never in the dark-_

_"In Hufflepuff, you'll find your place with those whose simple quirk,  
Is loyal, kind and trustworthy, they'll want to help you work,  
And Slytherin, they're all quite sly and cunning in the head,  
Some may say they're twisted, but I'd say they're devious, instead-_

_"So sit right down and come right up, I'll shout out what I find,  
Don't worry if you're nervous, no one is left behind,  
Put me on, I'll take a peek, and Sort you, just like that,  
I know exactly where to put you-_

_"'Cause I'm the Sorting Hat!_"

There was a brief pause, in which the Hat's 'mouth' snapped shut with a _click_.

Everyone burst into loud applause.

"Pretty impressive, for a hat," Calliope admitted, clapping spiritedly. "But do you really think we'll have to-"

The woman cleared her throat. "Akeldama, Vendetta!"

There was a short silence.

"Akeldama, _really?_" Ginny asked lowly.

Vendetta scowled. "I have a weird family. It means 'field of blood', or something."

The woman who had called her name coughed pointedly, and Vendetta started, walking quickly down the aisle to the hat.

"Um…" she said, sounding unsure. "What do I do?"

The woman surveyed her sternly over her spectacles. "You put the hat on, Miss Akeldama."

Vendetta wrinkled her nose, but sat down on the stool, placing the hat over her head. For a moment, everything went dark, and then she heard a voice in her head.

_Interesting._

"Who the hell are you?" she muttered under her breath, just low enough so nobody else would hear.

_I'm the Sorting Hat, of course. I'm simply puzzling out some things. Hang on a moment, I'm looking through this pretty little head of yours, and- oh yes…_

"Oh yes? What's that supposed to mean?"

_You've got quite a bit of bravery in you, but not nearly enough to make a decent Gryffindor- and the same goes for loyalty and Hufflepuff. It's quite clear to see where your destiny lies. You're quite the strange specimen, aren't you? Besides, you'd never last a day in Ravenclaw. So…_

"Oh, _yes!_" grinned Vendetta.

"SLYTHERIN!" yelled the Hat loudly. Vendetta stood up, taking the hat off, and looked towards the House that was cheering at her induction quite loudly.

Ace waved at her from the Gryffindor table and drew a finger mockingly across her throat, mouthing, _you're dead to me._

Vendetta raised a finger gun, pretended to shoot her in the head, and then skipped off towards the Slytherin table, where she was greeted by a number of Prefects.

"Welcome to the best House in the school," said one boy, as 'Creevy, Colin!' was sorted into Gryffindor. "If you ever need bloody and violent revenge on somebody you hate, I'm the one you should ask."

"I can deal with my own enemies," Vendetta said, "but thanks anyway."

"My pleasure," said the boy. "We should probably shut up before McGonagall tells us to."

Vendetta watched in silence as the next few people were sorted. There seemed to be a fairly even spread of students throughout the other three houses, but 'Greengrass, Astoria' and 'Harper, Morgan' were the second and third students to join the Slytherin table.

"Welcome to the Dark Side," she said dryly as Morgan sat next to her, Astoria taking the other side. "Don't worry, we have cookies."

He gave her a strange look.

The list of names went by with little to no oddities, apart from 'Lovegood, Luna', who walked up to the Hat backwards, put it on inside-out, and was promptly sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Umbra, Calliope!" called the woman with the list of names, and Calliope tripped nervously down the aisle, looking very small indeed in her black robes. She sat on the stool, and pulled the Sorting Hat over her head.

A moment passed, and then-

"_RAVENCLAW!_" the Hat shouted, and Calliope took it off, grinning. She headed off towards the table draped in blue and bronze, which was clapping for her. An empty length of seats was waiting, just a few metres away from the Slytherin table, so she went to sit there.

Vendetta leaned over across the short gap between the tables, and shot

her a thumbs-up. "Good job!"

"Thanks!" Calliope said, biting her lip so she wouldn't smile too hard. "Oh, goodness, that was nerve-wracking, wasn't it?"

"Weasley, Ginevra!" the woman at the front of the Hall called out, and Ginny, who was the last student to be Sorted, sat down on the small stool. The Hat had barely been on her head for a few seconds when it called out:

"_GRYFFINDOR!_"

"Figures," said Vendetta with a sigh, watching her friend go. "Oh well. I guess we'll have classes together and stuff."

"Wait, you're friends with a _Gryffindor?_" Morgan Harper hissed.

"Yes, you have a problem with that?" Vendetta snapped.

"_Kind of_, yeah?" Morgan said incredulously, but didn't get a chance to say any more, because the old man in the centre of the staff table stood up, bringing everyone into silence.

"Good evening, everybody!" he thundered in a booming, echoing voice, smiling down at them all. "I hope you have enjoyed yourselves thus far! Unaccustomed as I am to making speeches, I believe it is time for our meal to do the talking for us!" He gestured grandly towards the empty tables. "In other word, dig in!"

And in less than a second, the tables were filled to bursting with all sorts of foods and drinks and everything in between. For a moment, there was a pause as everyone stared at the spread, and then, almost simultaneously, everyone dived for the food, breaking out into excited chatter as they did so.

"A _Gryffindor_?" Morgan repeated, even as Vendetta began to heap her plate liberally with roast beef, gravy, and mashed potato. He had a very distinctive Welsh accent that was difficult to ignore. "Do you even know what those freaks get up to in their spare time?"

"Well, to be fair, I didn't know she was a Gryffindor when I met her on the train," Vendetta pointed out with a roll of her eyes. "And seriously, why should the fact that she's in Gryffindor make any difference?"

"You don't know?" said a blonde-haired boy who was sitting a few seats down. He reached across Morgan in order to get to the basket of gently steaming buns sitting in the centre of the Slytherin table. "Gryffindor and Slytherin have a _notorious _rivalry. Those smug lion bastards would jump at the chance to pin anything that goes wrong in this school onto us, so we just return the favour."

"That seems a bit unfair," Vendetta said with a frown. "I've met people from Gryffindor, and they seemed alright to me."

"Oh, really?" the blonde sneered, pouring himself a cup of pumpkin juice and offering it to her. "Like who?"

"Well, apart from Ginny, I've just met the one," admitted Vendetta, accepting the pumpkin juice. She sniffed it curiously. "Her name's Ace, and she's pretty cool."

The blonde boy nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "What, _Ace McShane?_"

"Yes, do you have a problem with her?" Calliope asked, leaning over from her conversation with Luna Lovegood into the conversation. "She seems rather nice, and I can't see why-"

"That bitch was expelled from her old school," the boy said scornfully. "For blowing up the Potions classroom, no less!" He laughed. "She had nowhere to go, so she came stumbling up to the castle gates two years ago, practically unconscious. Pathetic. She would've been sent to a Muggle school if the Alchemy professor wasn't so ridiculously _nice._"

"The Alchemy professor?" Astoria asked, who had been keeping out of the conversation up until then.

The blonde boy gestured with his free hand towards the end of the staff table, where a short man wearing a white straw hat sat. Almost as if mentioning him had gathered his attention, he glanced up at the boy, saw him pointing, and gave him a friendly-looking wave.

The boy sneered at him, but quickly averted his eyes. "She stays with him during the holidays now. He's a disgrace to the purebloods of this world, honestly, being with Mudblood filth like that."

"What does 'Mudblood' mean?" Calliope asked curiously.

Nobody seemed inclined to answer her for some reason, glancing back and forth at each other awkwardly.

"It's a fairly derogatory term for a witch or wizard who is Muggleborn," offered Luna Lovegood dreamily. "It's not a very nice word to use."

"Oh," said Calliope, looking worried. "Well- I mean, you really shouldn't be talking that way about her! Ace is a lovely person, and-"

"She glued four Slytherins to the roof of the train," said a boy across the table flatly but menacingly. "We couldn't manage to find her, for some reason- otherwise we'd have taught her a lesson she'd never forget."

Calliope coughed awkwardly, and withdrew back into her conversation with Luna.

"Anyway," said the blonde boy cheerfully. "She doesn't mind if I talk about her behind her back, she's used to it by now- _aren't you, McShane?_" he added, raising his voice to a yell.

"_Go fuck yourself, Malfoy,_" came a responding, but equally cheerful, yell from the Gryffindor table, and the entire Great Hall went completely silent with shock for a second.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Ace," said the Alchemy teacher mildly, into the echoing abyss. "I expect you to come up with better insults than that."

The tension was broken, and most of the Hall erupted into raucous laughter. From the Slytherin table, Vendetta could see Ace exchanging a hearty high-five with a pair of identical-looking red-haired boys.

"See?" said the blonde-haired boy, rolling his eyes as the chaos died down into chatter once more. He took a bite out of his roll, and extended a hand to Vendetta. "I'm Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy."

She accepted the handshake warily. "I'm Vendetta. If you make me mad, I swear to God, I'll rip your assorted body limbs off and sing along to your screams."

"You've got the hang of Slytherin already," replied Draco with a half-smirk.

After the food had disappeared and been replaced by dessert, and that had been furthermore replaced by nothing at all, the old man with the beard stood up once more, clapping his hands together for silence.

"Well, it appears that you all have had an excellent meal!" he exclaimed, smiling. "And so have I. If you do not know who I am, my name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. You may call me Professor Dumbledore."

Vendetta mentally shrugged, and stood up, raising her voice. "Can we call you Albus if we want?"

"If you want detention," the headmaster replied serenely, seemingly amused by her interruption, and a ripple of laughter spread through the Hall. "Just kidding," he added, quite sternly. "I'll expel you if you call me Albus."

Vendetta sat down, grinning.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore continued, "it appears to be time, now, for some general announcements. Firstly," he cleared his throat. "I would like to inform you all that the Forbidden Forest is still- yes, _still,_ out of bounds, as its name would well imply, and after the unfortunate incident with the dead unicorn in the night-time last year, you would all do well to heed to that rule."

He paused for a brief moment, and the students all exchanged glances that clearly said _he must be joking, right?_

"He's not joking," muttered Draco under his breath.

"We would also like to welcome our newest Defence Against The Dark Arts professor to our pantheon of staff that we have thus yet assembled! Everybody, please give a warm welcome to Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!"

The school burst into loud applause, accompanied by some squealing from the females present, as a young man with a beaming smile and fastidiously groomed hair stood up at the table. He cleared his throat dramatically, clearly about to launch into a long speech.

"Oh, good _grief,_" muttered Vendetta, bringing her head down to hit the table with a small _thunk_. She groaned and mentally prepared herself for a ridiculously boring amount of talking.

* * *

**Chapter Three: In Which The Common Room Is Entered, And Gossip Is Shared**

After a predictably long, boring speech, the school was dismissed, and the four houses all swarmed towards the large double doors that were the main exits of the Great Hall.

Vendetta bumped into Ginny in the crowd, who was walking with a slightly older, bushy-haired girl. They both were wearing identical worried expressions.

"My brother and his friend, they're not here-!" Ginny whispered. "They never got on the train, either, I don't know what-"

"Come on, Ginny, let's go," the girl said, tugging her away. "We can go check with the Prefects, they might know-"

Ginny shot Vendetta a helpless sort of look. "See you tomorrow, I guess?"

"Yeah, see you then," Vendetta said, and allowed herself to be swept up in the crowd.

"First year Slytherins!" came a very precise sounding voice over the babbling of the crowd. "First year Slytherins, over here, please!"

Vendetta headed in the direction of the voice, and met up with the nine other students in her year, who were gathered in the corridor outside the Great Hall, around a tall girl with short black hair and pale skin. She looked, thought Vendetta, a bit like a vampire.

But then she smiled, and it was a genuine smile. "Welcome to Slytherin! I'm Kanaya, and I'm the only prefect who is not out causing trouble tonight. Which means that I need to show you around." She pointed to a staircase, leading downwards. "Come on, all of you."

The first-years all followed her dutifully down the stairs.

"A bit of backstory may be prudent," said Kanaya. "You are all now members of Slytherin House, which was founded by Salazar Slytherin several hundred years ago. We are well-known for being the 'evil' house, but that is not quite correct, since our house traits are actually 'cunning' and 'ambitious'. Which isn't exactly the same thing as 'evil', I think you'll agree."

"But since everyone thinks we're evil, doesn't that mean we can milk it for all we're worth?" Morgan Harper asked.

"Exactly," said Kanaya with a wry grin. "The first rule of Slytherin is this: learn plausible deniability."

"Plausible deniability?" asked Astoria Greengrass, wrinkling her nose.

Vendetta perked up. "Ooh, I know this one. Basically, if somebody thinks you did something, say something ambiguous about it, even if you didn't. Like, 'I can neither confirm nor deny that I did it'."

"You are going to make an excellent Slytherin," said Kanaya with a raised eyebrow, and their entire group came to a stop in front of a blank stone wall. "Here is the entrance to the common room."

"It's a wall," said one of the taller boys flatly.

"We're in a school that's practically made of magic, idiot," sighed Vendetta. "Keep up."

"The password," said Kanaya, "is _emerald._"

The stone wall seemed to shuffle aside, rearranging itself into an archway that was easily big enough for all of them to crowd through.

"Nice," said Vendetta. "Magic rocks!"

That got a snicker from several people.

"The password to the common room changes every fortnight, and will be posted on the noticeboard," Kanaya informed them, stepping through the archway. "Welcome to our common room!"

The decorations were primarily green and silver, and the architecture was sweeping and grand, but that wasn't the most striking part of the Slytherin common room. No, the most impressive bit was the fact that it was half-built into the lake, with large glass panels reaching from the floor to the ceiling and lit from all sides with burning torches. As Vendetta watched, she could faintly see shapes moving in the distance.

"We're… under the lake?" Astoria asked, sounding unsure.

"Yes," Kanaya nodded, smiling. "Be polite to the mermaids. We're beginning to teach them sign language, but they are still slightly wary of us."

The west wall of the common room was completely enveloped by hundreds upon hundreds of books, lined up neatly on dark wooden shelves. The room in general had generally tasteful furniture- low backed black leather sofas, dark wood cupboards, and skulls decorating the top of surfaces

Vendetta grinned. "I like it."

There was a fierce, roaring fire in the fireplace, and to either side of it, two staircases wound downwards, even further into the depths of the school.

"Girls dormitories are to the left, boys are to the right," Kanaya directed, pointing. "No more than six to a room, although I don't think it will be a problem. Any questions?"

"What's the coolest spell you know?" Vendetta asked cheerfully. "And can we learn it?"

In response, Kanaya pulled out a small tube of greeny-black lipstick that exactly matched the shade of what she was currently wearing on her own lips. "This is my proudest achievement," she informed them.

One of the girls in the back frowned. "…what does it do?"

"You'll find out about halfway through the year," she smirked, and pointed towards the dormitories again. "Go on, off to bed. It's a big day tomorrow."

Vendetta shrugged and led the way into the first year's girl's room. The decorations were pretty much the same as had been in the common room- there were six four-postered beds, draped in green velvet and silver trimmings. Their bags and trunks had all been heaped neatly in the middle of it.

"Bags the one closest to the door," she said, flopping down on it just as Astoria and the three other girls entered. She glanced over towards her trunk, sitting in the middle of the room, and pulled a face. "I'll unpack tomorrow morning."

"Excellent plan," said the girl with short blonde hair, yawning. "Procrastination. Well, have fun with that."

"I will," said Vendetta, taking off her locket carefully, and laying it beside her bed. "Goodnight, I guess."

"Goodnight!" the rest of the dorm chorused together.

* * *

Vendetta woke up early the next morning, and groaned as she turned over, before realizing where she was. She lay in bed for a few minutes, grinning to herself.

"I'm actually here," she said softly. "Actually at Hogwarts."

"That's lovely, but could you please shut up and let the rest of us get some sleep?" complained the blonde girl from last night. "It's six in the morning, you know."

"Whoops," Vendetta said apologetically, and slipped out of her bed, dragging her trunk towards her and opening it, making sure it didn't creak too loudly. Quickly, she grabbed her robes, pulling them on, and plucked her wand from the side of the table, along with her locket, which snapped into place around her neck.

With that accomplished, she tucked her wand into the inside of her robes, and hurried out through the door and up the stairs.

Kanaya and a girl with short blonde hair and a black headband were sitting in the common room, playing a game of chess together, reading their respective magazines between moves. They both looked up at her arrival.

"Oh, hello," said the blonde girl. "You're up rather early, aren't you?

"I like getting a head start on the day," Vendetta admitted, stifling a yawn. "How do I get to breakfast?"

"The stairs change a lot," said Kanaya, putting down her magazine, and moving a pawn two spaces forwards. "So do the hallways, for that matter."

"It does take a while to get used to it," said her friend, and hooked a bishop between two fingers, twirling it back and forth. She placed it delicately on the board, and smiled. "Checkmate."

"We are literally four moves into this game," pointed out Kanaya, but then looked at the board and sighed. "You're right."

"I always am," replied the other girl smugly, getting up. She looked at Vendetta. "Come on, we can all walk down to breakfast together."

They left the common room at a brisk walk, heading up from the dungeons and into the main part of the school.

"Did you hear about last night?" said the other girl, who introduced herself as 'Rose'. "Apparently Harry Potter and one of his friends crashed a flying car into the school grounds."

Vendetta nearly choked. "Wait, _who _did _what now?_"

"Harry Potter," Kanaya supplied. "A second year who is well known for his insane antics by now. I wonder why he did it?"

"Either way, they didn't lose any points for it," Rose said. "I'm actually impressed- we should probably jump now-"

The three students quickly leapt across the quickly-widening gap as a staircase began to shift to a different position.

"Potter's a lunatic," Rose continued, and they all continued to walk on like nothing of interest had happened. "Speaking of which, he also happens to be right over there."

"What, _really?_" Vendetta asked, spinning around and looking across the hallway, where a boy with messy hair and glasses was walking next to a tall, pale ginger.

"That's him," Kanaya confirmed. "Just don't talk to him or-"

"Hey, Harry Potter, right?" Vendetta yelled.

Kanaya rolled her eyes. "See you later."

"Goodbye," offered Rose, and they entered the Great Hall together even as Harry turned to look at Vendetta.

"Um…" he began, sounding unsure. "Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare," she said darkly, and turned on her heel, walking away.

"Hey, over here!" yelled Ace as soon as Vendetta entered the Great Hall, waving her arms enthusiastically from the Gryffindor table.

"Thanks!" Vendetta said to Rose and Kanaya, and headed for the Gryffindor table, where Ace and Ginny were already seated. Ginny's bright hair was the only bit of her head that was visible- the rest was cradled in her arms.

"This is an ungodly hour of the morning," she moaned.

Ace grinned. "I dragged her out of bed to show her around the school."

"Which I appreciate," Ginny stifled a yawn, "and I learnt some interesting things about Hogwarts, but couldn't you have saved it 'till the weekend?"

"You need to learn your way around," Ace said, picking a ripe banana out of a bowl and twirling it for a moment before peeling it and taking a bite.

"Am I allowed to sit down here?" Vendetta asked, looking around the Hall. Only a scattered amount of students were lurking around. Most of them had the insanely cheerful look on their faces that can only be gained by waking up at the crack of dawn for most of your life. "Or do you have to eat at your House table?"

"Oh, nah," Ace said. "That's just a formality. Most people like to sit with their friends. Speaking of which-" She placed her banana on the table and glared accusingly at Vendetta as she sat down. "-don't think I've forgotten what you did last night, you Slytherin traitor! You've joined the enemy!"

"I guess this means that we'll have to be at each other's throats, fighting for the rest of eternity," said Vendetta, buttering some fruit toast absently. "Sounds fun, I'm all for it. Just watch out for my knife."

"Draco Malfoy doesn't seem to like you very much," Ginny said, still not moving.

"Oh, you heard that thing last night," Ace sighed.

"_Everyone _heard 'that thing' last night," Vendetta said. "What's up with that? He _really _hates you for some reason."

"That would be simple," Ace said quickly. "I'm Muggle-born, and I'm smarter than he is. Which isn't exactly _hard, _really-"

"Hm," said Vendetta suspiciously, sure that there was more to it than that, but not willing to push the topic any further.

"Here, have some pumpkin juice," Ace said, pushing it in the direction of Ginny. "And- hey, isn't that Callie?"

"Callie, over here!" Vendetta called, waving. The small, white-haired girl beamed and hurried over.

"Good morning!" she said cheerfully. "Ginny, did you manage to find your brother last night? You seemed awfully worried…"

"Oh, that," said Ginny with a roll of his eyes. "The idiot somehow managed to convince himself it'd be a good idea to fly our dad's car to school."

"Oh, yeah, I met him this morning!" Vendetta realized. "Him and that Potter guy."

"What did you think?" Ace asked absently, pulling out a book about Muggle chemistry and flipping through it.

"Didn't like him much," Vendetta replied with a grimace. "I think the feeling's mutual."

Students were beginning to file into the Hall, in groups and clusters, and the noise of conversation was rising at a steady rate.

Teachers began to come around to the tables, distributing timetables and schedules.

"Good morning, Miss McShane," said the teacher who had called out the names of the students last night- ("Professor McGonagall," Ginny explained). "Here's your schedule. Unfortunately, your application for taking fifth-year potions has been denied by Professor Snape, on the grounds that the coursework would be too difficult for a third-year."

Ace pulled a face, and groaned. "That git has it out for me."

"I shall pretend I did not hear that," said Professor McGonagall, but a slight smile curved across her face. "I will talk to Professor Snape, however. Denying students based on ill-disguised spite is bad form for a teacher."

"Thanks, Professor," said Ace, and accepted her schedule, reading over it eagerly. "Ooh, look- I've got Charms first-

"And you, Miss Weasley," said Professor McGonagall, offering Ginny her own timetable.

"Where do I get mine?" Vendetta asked.

"Generally, students receive their timetables at their own house table," said the Professor. "I'm not averse to inter-House friendships, but you may want to go and get your schedules first."

"Come on, let's go," Calliope suggested, tugging at Vendetta's arm, and, waving a quick goodbye to Ginny and Ace, they both hurried over to the other side of the hall, where a tiny man with a long beard cheerfully handed over Calliope's list of subjects. She examined it.

"I have History of Magic first," she said, digging into her bag. "It sounds fascinating!"

"Miss Akeldama."

Vendetta turned abruptly to face a tall teacher with black hair and a severe expression.

"Are you…" she began, wrinkling her nose. "Professor Snape?"

"That is correct," he said flatly, and thrust a sheet of parchment in her direction. "Your timetable."

Vendetta stared at him as he stalked off. "Charming." With a quick glance downwards, she scanned her schedule. "I've got History of Magic too. I guess we're having it together. Hey, can I see your book?"

Calliope passed over the thick tome, and Vendetta quickly ran her hand over the spine, and flipped through it. She handed it back. "Thanks. Geez, this class looks boring."

"Oh dear, I hope not," Calliope said.

* * *

**Chapter Four: In Which Classes Are Attended, and Cake Is Promised**

"Told you so," muttered Vendetta under her breath, who was playing Hangman with Calliope on the edge of the old desk that she was currently slumped at.

"Well, it isn't _so _bad," Calliope began, doodling on her arm, and then sighed, casting a glance at the late Professor Binns, who was currently floating a couple of inches off the ground, and had launched into a long, rambling lecture about the goblin wars without so much as an introduction. "I suppose you're right. Gosh, how did you know?"

"Magic," said Vendetta. "I bet we could learn more from our books then from being in this class."

The small Ravenclaw sighed again. "I know. This is terrible."

"How long does this class last?"

Calliope glanced behind her to the large grandfather clock in the corner. "…forty-five minutes."

"Kill me now," mumbled Vendetta. "Grant to me the sweet embrace of death."

* * *

Thankfully, the quality of the lesson improved over the week. Charms was fun- Vendetta managed to make a feather fly up to the roof of the classroom while Ginny pouted in the background- hers was only barely floating off the desk. Transfiguration was challenging, but rewarding, and Herbology was messy but rather fun.

Potions, however, was a complete nightmare.

On a rainy Friday morning, with Ginny, Calliope and Vendetta sitting at a desk at the back of the room, nervously eyeing the front, where Professor Snape stood, the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin first years had their first Potions class- all together, for some unknown reason. Maybe Professor Snape enjoyed torturing everyone all together.

"Potions," said Snape suddenly, silencing the nervous murmurs that had sprung up around the room. "Who can give me a correct definition of this renowned and complex subject?"

A few people glanced at each other, and looked like they might raise their hands, but nobody did.

"Anybody?" said the Professor, sounding bored but not that surprised. "Of course not." He tapped sharply on the board with his wand, and thin, spidery handwriting sprung to life, swirling across the black surface. "Potions is the unique branch of magic that does _not _deal with waving small pieces of wood to create sparks, but instead focuses on other, more _essential _skills such as those of measuring and patience." He paused, and gazed up at the ceiling. "Potions are not for the impatient, but their effects are usually difficult to undo by any but another skilled potioneer. This branch of magic carries a certain mystique and therefore status. You should be taking notes," he added sharply, spinning to face the class with a dramatic swirl of his cloak that Vendetta immediately noticed and appreciated. Maybe there was a spell for dramatic special effects like that. It might be useful later.

The class devolved into a flurry of scribbling and scratching, quills flying across the paper. Vendetta quickly noted the definition down neatly, and returned to watching Professor Snape, who was now surveying the class with a look of satisfaction that came from being the one in control.

He noticed her watching, and their eyes met for a brief second, before his gaze narrowed and he forcibly wrenched away. He snatched up the class register, which was lying on the desk besides him, and scanned it quickly.

"Miss Akeldama," he said, and Vendetta started, glancing up. "What is the correct amount of wolfsbane to add in the Wolfsbane Potion, and how must it be brewed into the mixture?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, matching his gaze. "Well… Professor Snape, no offense intended, but I don't quite think that we're meant to know how to brew Wolfsbane Potion in first year."

There was an excited murmur that passed through the class, with some giggling and one 'oh, _snap_' from one of the Gryffindors, and Professor Snape's lips tightened. He looked like he was about to open his mouth, so Vendetta hurried onwards.

"But, um, I think that the answer to that question would be… two thimblefuls of aconite leaves, left to dry at the half-moon. You need to mix it carefully in, sprinkling half a thimble every five minutes until the mixture begins to boil."

There was a deathly silence. Nobody dared to even breathe.

"Five points from Slytherin for talking back to a teacher," said Snape flatly, and turned back to the board, tapping on it again. The definition cleared off, and new instructions filled it, written smaller this time.

"Okay, _that _was unfair," Ginny muttered, doodling a gravestone on the side of her parchment. She carefully filled in, 'RIP in Pieces, Snape' in the middle of it, and showed it to Vendetta, who laughed lowly and gave her a thumbs-up.

"Today," said Professor Snape, beginning to pace. "We will be making Wolfsbane Potion. Yes, I am fully aware, Miss Akeldama, that this is a seventh-year potion, at the very least. _However, _this is my way of assessing your abilities. It is likely that none of you have even so much as _looked _at a cauldron before now, and I'm expectant of that fact."

He hesitated, and then seemed to come at a decision.

"It is a given- no, it is a _certainty- _that not a single one of you will come even the slightest bit close to brewing this potion at _all _correctly, especially considering some of the absolute idiots there this class is no doubt harbouring. _However, _if one of you manages to make an _absolutely perfect _Wolfsbane Potion to the amount that can be done in this double period, with no flaws whatsoever, and it meets my… rather stringent standards…"

The entire class held its breath as Snape paused in his pacing and turned to face them.

"I will bake them," he said, enunciating each syllable carefully. "a cake. And personally deliver it to them at lunchtime, tomorrow."

Nobody seemed quite sure of what to say to that.

In the row in front of Vendetta, a Hufflepuff girl with brilliantly blonde hair done up in a neat updo raised her hand lazily.

"Yes, Miss Lalonde?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just wondering, Prof," she said, a tad lazily. "What flavour cake?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if to stop himself from rolling them, and opened them again. "Chocolate. Work in groups or alone, it doesn't matter. Ingredients are at the front of the classroom. Begin."

"Ohhh, hell yeah," the blonde girl cheered, pumping a fist in the air, and nudging the Ravenclaw boy next to her, who had triangular sunglasses on for some inexplicable reason. "Come on, Dirk, we got this thing! Chocolate cake, here I come!"

Calliope, Ginny and Vendetta all exchanged glances.

"It's on," said Ginny, and stood up decisively. "I'll get the ingredients. You guys start preparing."

"We're going to _win _this thing," said Vendetta.

"We are?" Calliope asked.

"We are!"

"Are we gonna make this into a competition?" the girl in front of them asked, excited.

"Damn straight we are," her friend with the sunglasses replied.

"Less talking, more brewing," Snape snapped, clicking his fingers impatiently as he swept by them.

"Right," said Ginny, coming back as their cauldron began to boil. "The recipe calls for essence of coriander, gently brewed in at the same time as filtered boomslang skin." She looked worried. "How do we even _do _that?"

"Don't worry," Vendetta said, and a strange look passed across her face, followed by one of absolute determination. "I got this."

/

"So, how was your first Potions class?" Ace asked the next day. They were all crowded at the Slytherin table today, while the Slytherins around them kept shooting them weird and suspicious glances. "How bad was ol' Snape? How many points did you lose?"

"Five, for talking back," Vendetta said, rolling her eyes. "But apart from that, it was pretty good."

"Pretty good?" Ace laughed, and playfully hit her with a banana. "You're joking. Snape's the worst. Although," she looked thoughtful, "since you're a Slytherin, I guess…"

"She's not joking," added Ginny. "It was great."

"Yes!" Calliope added cheerfully. "I honestly don't know what you mean. Professor Snape is fine, although a bit brusque at times. He's an effective teacher."

Ace gave them all an incredulous look, and reached for a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah," Vendetta continued, grinning. "He's really nice! He promised to bake us a cake, since we were all such great students!"

Ace nearly choked on her juice. "Holy sh- you don't joke about something like that!"

"We're not joking!" Calliope said cheerfully.

"Snape would never bake a cake unless he poisoned it or something!" Ace argued. "He's an evil overgrown bat with the sense of humor of a deformed hyena, and-"

"Language, Miss McShane," said a low and calculatedly flat voice from behind her. A look of panic passed over Ace's face.

"Ahahah, Professor Snape, we were just talking about you!" she said, forcing a smile onto her face and turning to face him. "Um-"

He was carrying a cake.

"Oh my god," she muttered, awestruck. "I don't believe it."

"I believe you have earned this," he said sourly to Vendetta, who was grinning even wider now. "I'm not sure how you managed it, but I do keep my promises."

"Thanks, Professor!" Ginny said, waving a fork in his direction. "It looks delicious!"

Snape placed the plate of rich chocolate decadence onto the table, and stalked off, black cake swirling dramatically behind him.

"Yeah, I really need to learn how to do that," Vendetta said, staring in his direction. "Imagine how cool I'd look with a swirly black cape…"

"Cake!" Ginny reminded her, already slicing it into several pieces.

"I don't believe it," Ace repeated, leaning back in her seat, looking completely stunned. "You… you got Professor Snape… to make you cake. _Chocolate _cake." She paused. "Are you absolutely sure it's not poisoned."

"I don't think he'd be as stupid as to poison a group of students in the middle of the Great Hall," Calliope pointed out. "He seems to be a fairly intelligent man."

"Good point," Ace agreed, and clicked her knife and fork together enthusiastically. "In that case, give me some! I want to see how well our illustrious Potions Master can bake a cake!"

"Wow, he actually went through with it?" said a new voice from behind Vendetta. "Wowza. Thought he was joking."

Vendetta turned around again. It was the blonde Hufflepuff girl from Potions. "Hi! Yeah, so did we."

"How's the cake?" she asked.

Vendetta accepted her plate from Calliope, and took a cautious bite. "…not bad. Actually, it's pretty good!"

"I guess you need to be good at measuring stuff to be a Potions Master," the girl remarked. "I'm Roxy, by the way."

"Vendetta," Vendetta said, accepting her offered handshake. "No hard feelings about the cake, right?"

"Of course not, as long as you give me some."

Vendetta laughed. "Sure. Plenty for everybody."


End file.
